equanimiti: (☾ The Sincerity of a Dynasty☽)
Judge Magister Zargabaath ([personal profile] equanimiti) wrote in [community profile] faderift2015-10-21 08:22 pm

The Restless One

WHO: Alayre Sauveterre & Whomever joins
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: Harvestmere 21 : Early Morning and later, the Midnight Meeting.
WHERE: Skyhold, Frostback Mountains
NOTES: This features the "secret meeting" amongst the Templar and the Inquisition below. That's a locked thread.



Off the beaten path to Skyhold, a white horse could be seen frolicking about in its lonesome. The creature was without saddle or reins, completely free to roam where ever she wishes under the watchful gaze of the owner. Alayre had ventured out this morning for the sake of catching a bit of fresh air before the day starts. He felt guilty for keeping poor Durandal cooped up in the stable for the last several days and thought to treat her.

The horse seems to like her taste of freedom as she races along the expansive fields with such glee. Alayre found enjoyment watching the mare frolick as he sat high upon what seems to be the remnant of grey-stoned pillar. Dressed plainly in a black tunic and dark leathers, the only splash of color Alayre possessed was the crimson cloak that frames his sturdy form. Durandal's ornate brown saddle sat upon his lap as he gazes out towards the horizon. He's daydreaming at best, his thoughts scattered as the peaceful lull of the land almost tempts him to sleep.

With the Skyhold still visible from where he rests, Alayre wasn't too concerned about the treat of brigands and beasts alike. Though, this does not mean he left the hold unarmed. His swords are concealed by the lengthy cloak he wears but the Iceblade's ethereal glow is still somewhat visible.

A tired yawn escapes the Knight-Commander briefly takes a moment to stretch his arms. That suit of armor he typically wears left him feeling a tad stiff along the shoulders. It's an annoying dull ache that promises to get worse if doesn't alter the armor further.
fleurdesel: left, serious, angry, work, sarcastic (put that down)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-22 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)
"Then hold still." She hissed, eyes narrowed on the horizon. She thought she'd heard him, the softest cry. Why was he not sending up a flare as she'd taught him? Either something was wrong or he was too afraid to think and with everything taken into consideration; it was likely the latter.

No sign.

It took but a word before she was swinging down off the horse, jogging to the nearest copse of trees. She would climb and seek him out from there, Leon had a penchant for finding small places to hide, up high. It'd been what saved his life in the Spire.

"He's wearing a blue cloak, his hair is brown, and he hides up high." Templars, for all their piety, rarely looked up.
fleurdesel: right, sad, serious, tired (Keep talking. I'm walking.)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-23 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Leon!" No sign but again, that murmur. Something low and trembling and she knows that sound well- the rasp of it jars against unpleasant memory and here she is, again, seeking him out with a Templar at her side. He'd never come down. Hadn't she promised to keep him safe from them after the Spire? Promised he'd never need to be so terrified for his life ever again?

They would have to ride back on the Knight Commander's horse and he would blame her should anything go wrong. No matter the apparent kindness, trusting him is beyond her.

Of course he places his faith in the Maker. All good and wise and kind templars do.

"I hear him- stay with the horse." She's not precisely dressed for climbing but that doesn't matter. Hand over hand she hauls herself up the tree- it takes time and is shudderingly cold by the time she gets to the second set of boughs- but there he was. Shivering, bundled in his cloak, terrified. Several trees further in and a good deal higher up. Merde.
fleurdesel: right, surprised, afraid (Oh merde it's a dragon)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-23 05:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Further in, quite high." On the one hand, bravo Leon for keeping safe in the way you know how. On the other- this will be frustrating at best to get through. She refuses to think of the worst possible option. Climbing down took a bit of doing, shifting of cloak and skirts before she drops to the snow below, stumbling a bit.

There weren't many trees to be climbed in the Spire.

In a few, to the left and there he was. High above, all dark eyes and pale, shivering face. Adele immediately begins murmuring soft comforts in Orlesian, arms offered up to the boy. "Come down petite, you are safe, I promise."

So long as he focuses on her and not the knight commander, this should go well.
fleurdesel: left, sad, serious, angry (I know I was wrong)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-24 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
Little by little she was able to coax Leon down. As soon as he was within reach he dropped into her arms- as small a child as he is? Adelaide doesn't stumble. There are more whispers, soft expressions of fear, of reassurance, promises made and apologies given. Terror is exhausting- it is all to simple to nudge Leon into a restful slumber. Better that he not wake on the ride back and fall into a panic for who would ride with them.

Adelaide stays where she sits at the base of the tree, arms and cloak bundled around the child for a long moment. The last thing she wants to do is...thank the knight commander. But he had helped.

For some reason beyond her ken.

"...we have about half an hour before he wakes. I cannot carry him back to the hold..."
fleurdesel: center, sad, serious (This isn't how it should be)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-24 08:26 pm (UTC)(link)
It had been a way of separating them, using the common tongue. Impossible not to tell one of her countrymen from their accents but the more room she could keep between them on any level? The better. To hear him speak it has her flinching, curling tighter around Leon. Shouted orders, demands, blades flashing in the halls and Leon curled close, too terrified to cast a single spell. Her lips press thin as she tucks Leon that much closer to her chest. Ride back. It's been ages since she's last ridden but-

She cannot carry him back to the hold.

With a nod she stands, Leon braced against her chest as she approaches bot the Knight Commander and his horse. A thank you is in order but she doesn't have words for it. Later it'll come she's sure but for now she sets Leon across the horse's back and braces herself to mount up.
fleurdesel: center, serious, smile, smirk (I'm here. For now.)

[personal profile] fleurdesel 2015-10-25 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
"...Do not fall off a cliff or get lost on the way back to the hold. I'll be held accountable." The only thing worse than being indebted to a Templar is being blamed for their death. Beyond that- she rides. It goes swift with the horse, unaccustomed as she is to the practice. As soon as she's handed Leon off to Roul to be warmed she makes certain it's seen to in the stables- warmed and fed and, even, leaves an apple for it in thanks.

Alayre will find a bottle of wine tucked in with his horse's tack. Fereldan wine, but wine. As thanks.