heaven, a gateway, a hope

[byblow]

WHO: Grey Wardens & You
WHAT: A daring and not at all ragtag group of Grey Wardens has walked all the way across Orlais to inform the Inquisition--just in case it hadn't already realized on its own--that everything is terrible.
WHEN: Harvestmere 22
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: This post has: (1) A single group "we just got here, we're freezing, who is in charge, what do you mean you haven't decided yet" starter that we'd like to keep to one chronological thread. (2) Open starters for individual Wardens set later in the day/week.

OOC Note: Regarding the first starter--threadjack away! Anyone is welcome to wander onto the scene to see what's going on and wander back out at their leisure, to fall silent for a while, etc. No tagging order. But let slower taggers get a word in edgewise!

Comments

[paperwing]

It is mine, Ser Bruce.

[She's being polite. The only ones who didn't get Ser's are causing trouble somewhere or sleeping and if it's the prior, let them, and if it's the latter, she's somewhat envious.

She stops as they go underground, to a large room dusted in cobwebs. It could have been a hall of its own to rival the one above, a long time ago. It's almost entirely dark aside from a few candles in each corner, and it's unfamiliar. She's been to the kitchens, but not from this side.]

It's through here?

[amygdalae]

[Bruce isn't sure how he feels about being called 'Ser Bruce', but he supposes its a small compromise he can make. Its not as if its anything really bad.

He stops when she does, turning around to glance at her at the question, giving a nod.] Yes. It's odd as well, I know, but you'll see soon enough.

[He quirks a small smile at the end and then turns back to continue moving, heading towards the door that will lead into the familiar sight of the kitchens.]

[paperwing]

I wonder how far it goes down into the mountains.

[She doubts hidden doors or collapsed passages are high on the Inquisition's itinerary in terms of fixing the place, but it might be useful to know. It's worth knowing everything about a place you wish to make impenetrable.

When she reaches the door, she places a hand against the rim. It isn't locked, and swings open, but the kitchen itself is dark, and empty. Unsuprising, given the time of night - the only light comes from the embers in the fireplace, casting shadows over carving knives and unprepared fresh produce and handprints stained in flour, where someone had been making bread. It all looks a little too like someone laid this out purposefully - that if someone were to touch it, their head would be had.]

[amygdalae]

[That is a good question, actually, and Bruce hums at that, pondering a little himself.]

Perhaps one day we should try and find out. It would be useful to know.

[For more reasons than one. Knowing the limits of the fortress would help them greatly in knowing where to improve and where to defend. If Skyhold was to be their place of operations, then they couldn't let it fall just as Haven did.

The door to the kitchen opens and Bruce steps in after her, glancing around. Nobody else was in right now, although considering how constantly they had to work, Bruce is pretty sure they'd soon be here eventually.

He steps close to the table where some items are laid out, although he makes sure not to touch them.] I wonder what they're planning to cook tomorrow.

[paperwing]

[She'll ask the dwarven masons, at some point, or make the suggestion. For now, it can be a question for another time.]

Something for the nobles, or solely for the Inquisition? [Or its guests, such as she. She walks around the other side of the table, not wanting to pick anything up, but there has to be something she can snack on around here, somewhere. She'd even just take the bread. Or stew. Or anything, really.]

To keep a hold happy and fed must require a great deal of produce... and time. And patience. There's so many people here.

[amygdalae]

The Inquisition. I'm sure the nobles will have something that works for them.

[He almost feels bad for the kitchen for having to deal with all of their picky tastes. Bruce himself fortunately doesn't really have to deal with them much, his attention and focus directed towards the refugees that had all come here.

He hums as Sabriel speaks again, his gaze wandering across the items scattered across the table.] It's certainly not easy. I'm constantly impressed at how they're managing to keep up with the populace here.

[Maybe one day he should try to help, if he's able to.]

[paperwing]

Their tastes are likely to be more specific. [It's a polite way of saying picky. She might also fall into the picky category, if only because Ferelden food just isn't like what there is in Nevarra.]

It's the largest gathering of people I've ever seen. [She looks away, into the darkness.] Even the call to the Wardens of Southern Thedas didn't amount to as many as this, and Circles never grow so large. [She might like the idea of a circle, and for all intents and purposes be pro-Circle, but she's not naive enough to know the reasons as to why - she might like to think of it as their own safety, but it's a measure of control. She does know it, even if she wasn't entirely aware of it then.]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce hums at her words, glancing in the direction of where the door is now, out to where the rest of Skyhold was, sprawled out on this mountain. Everyday there were still more people coming in, seeking food and asylum from the chaos outside of these mountains, a chaos this place had pledged to stop.

It's hard to think if that could actually ever happen.]

There are a lot of people who believes what the Inquisition can do, what they can accomplish. [He says it quietly, as if affirming to himself, just as for her.] No matter what happens, all we can do is to try and accomplish what we're all here to do.

[paperwing]

If the Wardens were- [she stops, hesitating. Alistair spoke of bad news, and she's said bits and pieces to a friend she could trust, but- not specifically. If the Wardens were of right mind, they could help here. She's sure of it. That's what Wardens do, wasn't it? Save the world, if pressed.]

-if we... can resolve what threatens the order, then- our services would surely be offered, against that the Inquisition faces. Even without their approval, I will not sit by and watch others suffer for what ails us.

[amygdalae]

[He waits patiently until she has her words out, and then he nods in understanding.]

Any help would be appreciated, I'm sure. [He says, voice gentle, and giving what is hopefully an appreciative smile.] But your own duties to the Wardens come first. Take care of yourself.

[paperwing]

I know. [Sabriel sighs.] I know. But this- this is my duty. To help Thedas. I can't forget that.

[amygdalae]

[Bruce can relate to her dilemma - perhaps more than he can admit. That problem of wanting to help, but...]

I'm sure all of you will be able to manage that eventually. [He gives her another encouraging smile.] So don't try to worry too much. It'll add more wrinkles to your brow.

[paperwing]

[A hand goes to her brow at the mention. If worrying equals wrinkles, she's probably gained so many in the past few months; she'll go grey (haha) long before her time with the amount of worrying she does do, the amount of responsibility she needn't have to take but bears anyway. What is right is not easy.

But she hears what he's saying.] I will try not to, even if I cannot promise.

[She returns to scrounging in the farthest reaches of the kitchen, away from the candles, but that's no problem for her, as she cups the smallest of flames in a hand to light her way. Well, there is bread, which she snaps up and begins to chew on, without much gusto. Maybe she should just accept bread and come back first thing in the morning for more of that hearty Ferelden cuisine...]

[amygdalae]

[Trying is all that Bruce needs. He understands the complexities of the situation, even if he doesn't see the whole picture. But the Wardens have their own business and he knows better than to pry.

He lingers a little behind her as she goes around and eventually finds a bit of bread to eat. He smiles wryly again as she chews on it, his expression somewhere between sympathy and knowing.]

If you want I can make something for you. [He's no cook, but you can't go on the run for so long without learning how to survive.]

[paperwing]

[Sabriel stops chewing at the promise of real food. Alright, so she's used to multiple meals a day but she's never going to complain about it or ask someone for better. But if he's offering, she would be foolish to say no. Morning was a long, long time away.]

What if the cook comes back? Would she not be angry?

[That's a yes, by the way. Please make her food. Please.]

[amygdalae]

I'm sure it'll be fine if I take just a bit.

[The cook probably won't even notice. Or if it comes to it, Bruce will do something to make up for it.

He moves over to the counters after saying that, starting to poke around the place to find whatever he can scavenge out to use as ingredients. Skyhold houses many people and Bruce has had to live with much smaller places before, so he's sure he can manage something out.]