faderift | and I'm haunted

WHO: Hercules & Leliana & Ruby & whoever would like a thread with them 8Db
WHAT: a catch all for February-March;
WHEN: the next monthish :|b
WHERE: Skyhold, Emprise, maybe somewhere else.
NOTES:
1. individual starters in el commentos
2. specific themes and warnings will be dropped into subject lines as necessary.
3. if you are threading with Leliana it would be amazing if you could reply to this post re: information she could know about your character.
4. if we have discussed doing a thread but there isn't a starter here, feel free to just barge in and set one up! otherwise prod me and I can add it asap, I have a to-do list but I am also scatterbrained ;u;
5. I'm not doing open prompts this time for Leliana, but if you would like a thread with Leliana, please don't hesitate to get in touch with me! I am just trying to do custom things because she is in a particular state of mind, at present.
6. I am sorry there are so many notes

apparently I am being pretentious this month

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eggs may be easier than the rest of the griffin. Maybe. Depends on their artistic skills in general, really, and the elves do tend to lean away from realism.

Then again, Merrill uses a ball of twine to get around major cities. She's probably not the best example. And while yes, the Dalish tend to not be overly fond of shoes, she is wearing a pair of boots. She's not necessarily enjoying it, but it's cold, and Anders will scold her terribly ig she ends up with frostbite. The gloves are, therefore, happily accepted.

"Oh, thank you! I don't mind, really; I know a healer who'd have been terribly cross if I refused. Of course, he tended to be terribly cross a lot." At least when it came to her, Templars, injustice, Tranquil, mage rights, anything Fenris said...

"And- it's been a while, admittedly. Sometimes I'd help the children in the alienage, but as the fighting in Kirkwall got worse, we tended not to go outside so much."

"Healers can be a cranky lot," he agrees. And, conspiratorially, "can't imagine why they go into healing, if they get so mad about people giving 'em work."

Very much a joke, and maybe his smile gives him away as much as his tone. Mostly he's just glad she accepted the gloves, and he circles around a generous bit of snow, thick and layered up from not being disturbed too much from Inquisition folks stomping about in it. He's almost wading in it, which is probably why it's gone so long undisturbed.

Still, he stops short, looking at her for a moment with a more serious expression, halfway to scooping up some snow. "You were there for the Rebellion?"

He's heard stories of course, heard a fair bit from Bethany, but he's got a lot of things on his mind. Doesn't immediately make all the connections. After a moment's pause, he adds, "Must've been rough."

The joke makes her laugh as she pulls on the gloves, the too-large cuffs rolled up to help keep them on and the snow out. (They will almost definitely come unrolled within the hour.) She doesn't follow him directly into the snow, instead adjusting the legs of her pants and tucking them into her boots a bit further. If it's up to Hercules' waist, it's likely going to go further on her.

"Yes," she responds, simply, even as she fusses with the heavy fabric of her winter gear. "It- well. Knight-Commander Meredith and the Templars that believed in her way needed to be stopped. Obviously killing people wasn't the best answer, though. But... I knew something was coming. I didn't know what, but I knew it would be some sort of end."

Now she sighs, looking up. "I just didn't realize that friendships would end with it." Not necessarily her friendships, but Anders' actions had certainly splintered the group, her makeshift clan.

There's a pause and then, a bit more lightly- "Or that Meredith would turn into a statue. That was a bit weird."

That's something to consider. Herc looks her way for a moment, and starts digging a bit of a part with his hands, heaping the snow in on direction before realising that it's probably going to be a waste of time. All the more to work with, sure, but he might need to wade a bit to find a spot where he isn't so likely to lose a Dalish under the snow, and so they can start actually making their griffon before the sun sets. He moves a little further along, effectively creating a bit of a path for Merrill to join him, as he goes. Knee-deep... better, probably. (Hopefully.)

"Ends happen all the time," Herc starts, after a bit of a pause, trying to figure what might be worth saying. "Life's full of 'em. My experience, though, is that they normally bring some kinda beginning along with 'em."

Not that it's necessarily the beginning of anything you want, but there's no need to tell her that, is there?

"Yeah, I can imagine. Not the kind of thing you see every day." And though he doesn't laugh, there's a whole lot of amusement in the look he gives her.

Don't worry, Herc. If Merrill gets buried, she'll pop out of the snow like- well, like a daisy, honestly. The path is appreciated, though, and she is careful to try and stay in his footsteps where they pack the snow down further. It isn't too terribly difficult, with snow keeping his strides from being as long as they might otherwise be.

"That's true. But they hadn't always felt so... prominent before they happened. At least, not for me."

But Merrill never could have guessed what would happen, even when she'd known something was going to.

She does laugh, though, shaking her head as she reaches down to scoop up some snow.

"We always did seem to find ourselves in weird situations. We even went to the Black Emporium!"

"No." No, they don't always feel like that, and he exhales quietly, stopping finally and starting to gather up some snow, to start heaping it in one place. He's not exactly an artist, all right, this griffon probably is going to be a bit more like a potato with wings if left to his supervision. "They won't always feel like that, either, though. Some stuff takes a lot of time to get a handle on, but... eventually it'll be less like a pothole that could take the wheel off a cart, and more like a little bump."

He's not sure the comparison even makes all that much sense, but he's not exactly a wordsmith.

"You? Getting into weird situations?" A moment of pause, brows raising. "I don't believe it."

Potatos must also dream of flying, or something. But at least Merrill has some level of artistic talent; they'll get it to look passable, if nothing else. A meowing potato with wings, perhaps?

Another laugh and she flicks a bit of snow at him, not anywhere near enough to actually hit Herc but enough to get the teasing point across. "I think it was more Hawke than me, at the time. But now... well, here I am."

Hawke, again. Not a surprise, friends were like that. Herc doesn't really know what kinda man he'd be, without certain friends having shaped him along the way, and who he shaped right back.

"Here you are," he agrees, good natured and flicking some snow right back. His aim is more accurate, unfortunately, though not on purpose - more just habit. "Official Snow Ambassador to the Inquisition."

Hawke was so important to all of them -- Merrill honestly still isn't sure how she functions without her. She feels diminished, somehow, as if Hawke had made her more than herself and now she's just Merrill. Not healthy, perhaps, but true nonetheless.

"Official, hm? I've never had a title past 'First to the Keeper' before, and that didn't matter to anyone outside the Dalish. And I think I'm less likely to give this position up." It's not a flick of snow toward Herc this time but a small handful, Merrill grinning. You've got a new friend now, Hercules Hansen.

"Hey, careful now," Herc objects, laughing as the snow splatters against his stomach. "It's all fun and games until a snow fight gets serious."

Very sagely said, as he pats a a couple of handfuls of snow into a solid snowball, holding it up. He considers it for a long moment, before looking back to Merrill, and tossing it in her direction. Not full force, but if it hits its target, she might just get a shoulder splattered with snow.

It hits and Merrill laughs, almost shrieking with it. A brief moment of consideration has her decide that yes, they absolutely have time for a snowball fight before making their snow griffin, and so she forms a real snowball and lightly tosses it between her hands.

"Afraid to take on a mage in the snow?" It's all a tease -- for one thing, she's not going to use magic to make balls of ice and then pelt them at him -- followed by a toss of the snowball toward his chest.

and I'm haunted

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i need an inspirational cross stitch of "potatoes must also dream of flying"

if i did cross stitch i would make you one

maybe I will learn just for this

if i ever need a new personal username it should be 'flyingpotato'