faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Alejandro Borges AND YOU, YES YOU.
WHAT: Alejandro shows up at Skyhold. It's incredibly exciting!! He's probably getting drunk or getting to work so take your pick.
WHEN: End of Guardian
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Alejandro's mouth might deserve a warning. Also, feel free to use prose or brackets; I have no real preference.

COURTYARD
"Well, isn't this a fuckin' thing."

There weren't many survivors from the O'Bannon, but the few that did live needed a refuge. For a time, Alejandro ensured that they made it someplace; Redcliffe seemed the best, least crazy place to be, and that's including the damned rumors about Tevinter mages that hung around. Alejandro wasn't thrilled with that one, but they needed a place, and that was as good as it was going to get.

Him? Well, he always got through his issues with a hammer, anger, and intent while at a forge.

Alejandro adjusts his pack on his shoulder, taking a moment to look over Skyhold. It was impressive from a distance, but damn if this isn't some kind of fortress.

"Shit, and a place to get trashed," Alejandro says with a snort. "Well, they've got the right idea."

UNDERCROFT
This isn't a bad location for a forge. Hell, downright fancy in comparison to the places he's been.

Alejandro's dropped his pack and taken a moment to review the area. It's wide and open, excellent space for anyone to work in. Frankly, he's pretty damned impressed with it; it's not fancy, but spacious as hell.

As he's exploring the space, Alejandro stops when he sees the crawl of something out of the corner of his eye. It's a bit hard to not have a good sense for this kind of shit after everything he's seen and witnessed, and he knows what it must be.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes widening.

It's a small spider, not any larger than a sovereign, crawling innocently along, minding its own business.

Alejandro slams a bucket over the critter, frowning in thought as he tries to determine how to handle this. He commends himself silently for not screaming, but now he needs to keep it there. After glancing around a moment, Alejandro yanks a shield over and lays it on top of the bucket, keeping it still.

After pausing for a moment, he scribbles out a note and sticks on the shield:
DO NOT FUCKING MOVE
- A.B.

"That ought'a do it."

TAVERN
The day is long. It's always long. It's going to be that way for everyone, and he knows everyone's got a sob story. No one here's gotten by without a scratch, and everyone has their way of dealing with it.

Sometimes it's work for Alejandro. Sometimes it isn't.

He sits down at a table and orders himself some ale -- cheapest they have, which is gonna taste awful, but beggars aren't choosers and he's not loaded with money. Alejandro unstraps his prosthetic and lets out a sigh as the weight comes off his shoulder before he's placing the thing on the table so he can make some adjustments to it.

Sometimes it's work. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's a bit both.

WILDCARD
(Got something different? Go for it!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Shit, me? Hell no. I think this place would fall apart real damned fast if I was in lead of anything except making weapons and armor." Even he's aware of that, frankly.

This results in a bark-like laugh from the woman, and she raises her mug to clink it against his. "It does take bravery to admit it," she commends, "though I'm certain the Inquisition will find a use for you yet. It seems to have that way about it."