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

[ombranera]

Zevran lands in the space previously vacated, boots heavy on the floorboards. He'd meant to land on that blond fool and he'd meant for it to hurt, not having the squishy target of a vulnerable underbelly staggers him for the half second it takes his prey to vault up and over, backwards. Snarling he hauls himself onto the bar proper, stalking down the length of worn wood, heedless of the tankards he knocks over or the arms and shoulders he has to weave around. At one point he steps on a drunkard's back to push himself to the end of the bar with a solid leap.

"Ho intenzione di tagliare fuori gli occhi e dar loro da mangiare per Te!" Where is his partner? He needs to catch them both. All that trouble they put him through, the job they ruined, the coin he lost.

[bunko]

Occhi? Occhi, Maker-- Under the bar, Scipio slaps one hand over his eyes. Wine-sticky fingers momentarily blind him, and he sucks in a breath. Ow.

What kind of a dangerous madman is the Noodle Stranger, anyways? In review of his role in nearly ruining one of the great successes of their careers, Scipio and Rafael have speculated, idly, on the identity of the Noodle Stranger. And while passions had been high that night, all that paint smeared on the wall, and Rafael with half an eyebrow missing, grabbing Scipio around the neck to drag him out of the goat's way, and all that shouting--never, never would Scipio have suspected that they had crossed paths with insanity itself. Why else would he be walking on the bar? One has only one excuse for bar-walking, and that's during a rousing song. This is just destructive.

And why the eyes?

Think, he tells himself. Think think think. The end of the bar is just there, and there's the hinged part of the counter-top, that the bartender can swing up so he can duck out--the perfect space to crawl out from, and Scipio does so, with the stomping footsteps of the Noodle Stranger echoing loudly behind him, and he grabs hold of a nearby leg to hoist himself up.

The leg is familiar. He looks up, wide-eyed, panicked, arms wrapped tightly around Rafael's leg, like a drowning man.

"Rafa! It's HIM--"

[offortune]

"What? Go away Skip, can't you see I'm busy?"

Rafael is talking to a girl, you see, elbow leaned into the bar in a posture that casually ("casually") emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, chin perched on his fist at an angle that suggests his attention is completely riveted by whatever she is saying. Or was, until his erstwhile partner latched onto his leg and he was forced to turn and look down at him. Perhaps it's a statement on Scipio's habits that Rafael seems prepared to dismiss this sort of behavior; or perhaps it's a condemnation of Rafael's priorities that he does not take this more seriously. Not immediately, anyway.

He begins to turn back to the girl, but Scipio is still clinging and there is that ambient awareness of the room that kicks in, now that he has been rocked out of his fixation on Doria (Daria? Dorea?) and her very pretty mouth. And Zevran is not being subtle, with the walking on the bar and the shouting. Rafa had tuned it out along with all the other nonsense but now that voice-- that voice belatedly triggers something in his brain and with a very winning smile and an abrupt but hand-kissing apology to Daria, Rafael crouches down beside the bar to bring his face nearer to level with Scipio's.

Eyes wide, he clutches Scipio's shoulder and says, in urgent whisper, probably in unison: "NOODLE STRANGER!" He hazards a peek up in Zevran's direction. "There is a back door. Come, hurry!"

[ombranera]

"Fatevi vedere, vigliacchi!" Hiding and running is a viable and commendable tactic in a situation such as this and any other moment Zevran is happy to applaud such efforts. Hide quick and stay alive, it's marvelous. But when he is the one seeking, when the ones he seeks are these pasta bandits? It is more irritating than it is commendable- more vexing than viable. They should face him down and be done with it before they end up lighting another goat on fire or painting the courtyard with jams and creams.

It'd been an interesting night, meeting these two. Interesting and frustrating. And he'd sworn that should he ever meet them again? They would get their comeuppance. Now they are here in his tavern drinking his ale and charming his barmaids and he is to simply let it be? No!

Snarling in uncharacteristic ill humor he vaults to the next table, scanning the crowd of bodies. He will find them, and when he does? "Quando ho finito con te le loro madri non riconoscono quello che è rimasto!"

[bunko]

"NOODLE STRANGER!", absolutely in unison and Scipio doesn't dare to look at him. He lets Rafael get an eyeful, while he still has eyes. All that shouting, all those threats. The last one gets a loud HA, and a finger jabbed toward Rafael, fear temporarily suspended.

"HA! Ha, he doesn't know we haven't got mothers to recognize us--" No, wait, that's a sad thing. Rafael's girl is trying to lean around the table's edge to see them, concern plain on her face, but here are real words of love: there is a back door.



Not like that.

A real back door, wood and iron, a door to freedom and escape, and Scipio ahhs accordingly. Good work, Rafael, way to read the architecture of the room. He doesn't need to be told twice to hurry, he jumps up and bolts, shoving aside tables and patrons, excuse me excuse me scusi scusi. The commotion that springs up around them means they are momentarily highly visible to the avenging Noodle Stranger, but there's nothing else for it.

The door is right there. The door, the door; Scipio, with one arm hooked around some part of Rafael, trips. Midway through his fall, he corrects it, slams a shoulder into the solid wood instead with an owww--the move looks almost purposeful, but since the door opens inward, and not outward, it doesn't budge.