OPEN: The Loyal Shield

[lifeofendurance]

WHO: Aleron and YOU
WHAT: General Catch All while the Seeker settles in
WHEN: Guardian 24-Drakonis 14
WHERE: Skyhold (varies)
NOTES: Prose or brackets fine. Can also use for any scenes wanted.

It barely takes any time since his arrival for Aleron to resume what has been his daily habits for years now. Being relocated inside the Inquisition fortress has made little difference, beyond a change of scenery. He knows of no other way than the one he's followed most his life. With everything outside the walls in sheer chaos, finding order within his personal habits provides a rock solid foundation to face those challenges.

Chapel
Every morning and evening, before he breaks his fast, before he commits himself to rest, Aleron can be found inside the Chapel, knelt in prayer. He is as earnest in his devotions as he is with the remainder of his life and spends no less than an hour each time praying through sections of the Chant of Light. It is familiar. It is the base of his faith. It is his faith that holds him up, and to neglect it would be unjust in his mind.

Courtyard
During the day, Aleron commits himself to practice and training his weapon skills, though he prefers light leathers to full armor for the exercise. A particularly sharp eye or veteran combatant will note something unusual. He executes moves with precision, clearly well studied, with years of practice. However, he does not excel with the sword, not like a true master or exceptional talent would. Still, every day, he is present in the yard, working on his form, his stance, his skills.

Stables
Most days, he finds his way to the stables, to check after the welfare of his horse he rode into Skyhold. Valiente is a lively mount, but not too aggressive, nor does he seem to mind being quartered with so many others. Weather permitting, Aleron saddles him for a short ride through the mountain passes, enough to keep the horse hale and hearty, but never so much as to risk his health or a broken limb on treacherous footing.

Library
Every afternoon, the Seeker abandons physical pursuits for academic ones. Anyone who's made note of his somber default expression will find him different when engaged in scholarly reading and research. His eyes light as he peruses the shelves, smiles and looks of surprise manifest when he stumbles across some new tidbit of fact or history of which he had previously been unaware. Peculiar to some that a man could become so animated reading titles such as Tales of the Destruction of Thedas or The Essays of Divine Ambrosia II, but his excitement over the material is present and palpable.

Tavern
Of an evening, there is a solitary man seated with a single ale which he nurses slowly. Aleron doesn't engage in games of chance, flirt with the servers, or join in any more raucous singing that happens once the patrons are well in their cups. He sits, listens to the bard, sometimes reads a book, other times a letter. The letters often sit on the table for a considerable length of time while he stares off into the distance, as if deliberating if he wants to open them or not. If the place is crowded, he makes no objections to others joining him.

Comments

{ drakonis 14 } library

[aceso]

Once Christine returns from Emprise du Lion, it's straight back into research in the library. She needs to get permission from the advisers to study the red lyrium, so for now she's just pooling together what she's learned so she can write a suitable proposal. There are maps of Sahrnia laid out before her with numerous Xs on it, plenty of notes, a quill and pen close by, and several rolled up bits of blank parchment.

In addition to this project, she still has her spirit healer studies, and there is a stack of books on the subject on her table, which she sorts through, looking for a certain bit of information. Her movements cause the rolls of parchment to roll straight off the table and next to Aleron where he stands besides a shelf, and Christine lets out a sigh of exasperation as she stands to retrieve them.

"Excuse me," she says, to warn him not to step on any parchment, nor to step on her hand as she crouches to collect it all.

[lifeofendurance]

The soft sounds of people working and reading and researching doesn't distract Aleron from his careful examination of the shelves. He's not even exactly certain what he's looking for, but hopes to find something which will prove useful to the Inquisition. The parchment falling goes unnoticed until it rolls into the side of his boot and comes to an abrupt stop against the leather. He glances down, then in the direction it seems to have come from, noting a woman approaching him.

He holds up a hand, indicating she need not bother with fetching it, although she's already in the process of doing. He squats down smoothly, reaching to gather it for her, without accidentally stepping on it. Once in hand, he offers it to her with a polite nod. "This is yours?"

[aceso]

Christine straightens as Aleron reaches down, and smiles politely in return, holding out her hand.

"It is, yes. Merci." There is nothing written on it yet, as she's still sorting through her notes, and she's hoping not to waste the precious parchment by thinking things out first before putting quill to paper. "My table is a little crowded right now, and this fell off the edge."

{ guardian 24 } chapel

[embracelight]

Belinda is far from the only resident in Skyhold to visit the chapel, and being a former Templar she's used to early morning prayers because it was that way during training. Being as devout as she is, she feels it would be wrong to miss a day of prayer in front of the statue of Andraste, so she heads there before the sun has even risen past the peaks of the mountains. She kneels down, fingers laced together in prayer, and begins to recite passages that she feels are relevant during this time of war, chaos, and uncertainty.

When someone else enters, she turns and smiles.

"Hello," she says quietly. There is something about being in a chapel that makes her always keep her voice hushed. "Would you like me to recite in my head? Or we could pray together."

[lifeofendurance]

There is a simple rush of pleasure to find himself not the only one come for prayer this morning. A quiet joy that there are still others who are loyal to their faith, even in these times of great troubles. He so seldom smiles, but the corner of his mouth tips up on its own and he doesn't bother to force it away.

Aleron, too, keeps his voice low, unwilling to disturb the peace and sanctity with a normal conversational tone. "I believe the Maker would find pleasure to hear the Chant shared."

He steps forward and kneels nearby, so that their prayers remain quiet, but still audible to the other.

[embracelight]

"I was just reciting Trials 1," she says as he takes his place next to her. "I think it's relevant in these times of trouble, as we face down Corypheus's army. The Maker is with us as we weather the storm."

She faces forward again and bows her head, saying the verses in a tone that shows she believes the words and they come from her heart.

"I have faced armies
With You as my shield,
And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing
Can break me except Your absence.

When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me
And the taste of blood fills my mouth, then
In the pounding of my heart
I hear the glory of creation."

[ungovernable]

It is a bad habit of Seekers to slip into Skyhold all unannounced - or at least, without announcing themselves to Benevenuta. All right; he is the second, only, but if a third should appear...!

In other words, it is with smiling surprise that she slows to a stop beside the table at which he's stopped to read his fill, the years since they gently and politely disentangled from one another perhaps not enough to have dispelled the memory of the particular blended scent of rosewater and magic that announces her before her hand falls familiar on his shoulder;

"Aleron?"

She'd always been a bit presumptuous with personal space - more, probably, after they'd firmly put paid to the notion of their marrying and she could be assured he'd not think anything of it.

[lifeofendurance]

The touch on his shoulder is all it takes to draw Aleron's attention out of his book and up at the owner of that hand. For a fleeting moment he gawps in surprise, not expecting to see someone stepped out of his past out of nowhere. "Benuta," he blurts out, going to the familiar name. It's the scent of her perfume and the sound of her voice that prompts the memory.

Then he remembers himself and stands, with a slight bow. "Lady Thevenet." Falling back into formality is comfortable and he's not precisely sure he's permitted to drop it now. They parted well enough, but there is still so much lingering guilt on his part. Guilt for having been used for his mother's manipulations, which involved a lady who did not deserve as little as he could offer.

Maker but she's standing close. He can feel the heat rising on the back of his neck as awkwardness sets in. "I did not know you were here."

Smooth. So smooth.

[ungovernable]

The warm smile that his startled Benuta had prompted only broadens with amusement when he bows to her and shapes her title. For a moment she does not give ground, because she is a terrible person - but graciously, that moment passed, she allows him his space and instead gathers her skirts to sit in the other nearest seat, gesturing him back down to his. Little enough of her appears to have changed in the interim - even her clothing makes only few concessions to Skyhold's climate as opposed to Nevarra City's.

"Aleron," she repeats, gently, by way of giving that permission. "I came not long before the Herald's wake - I serve on the Council of Magi, here, among other things." Always with her finger in this, that and the other thing - that can come as no great surprise. "You are the second of your Order to surprise me so - I am glad of it."

With the mysterious disappearance of said Order ... she had not thought to see either of them again.

Courtyard

[sunshinethroughgrey]

The new Seeker wasn't the only one who used the Courtyard for practice -- if not an odd one.

Bethany was out there every single day, twisting and moving her body through an almost slow dance as she moved her arms and shifted her body through various spells, yet no magic every left her body. In fact, it appeared she was using the exercises to focus her mana and control her magic, keeping it under her purview.

Every day she would give the Seeker a friendly nod if they were out there at the same time. It was safe to say, however, that she nodded at everyone in a friendly manner, whether or not they returned it.

[lifeofendurance]

Every day Aleron sees Bethany out in the Courtyard training, he returns her nod. Sometimes he even watches her practice before continuing on with his own. More, however? Not typically. Not that he's intentionally trying to be anti-social, just that he's got stunted social skills.

Today is a watching day, and he notes that every time she thrusts outward with her staff, there is a gap in her defenses which could be used against her in a true fight. He recognizes that weakness because it's one he's studied in his exhaustive review of combat methods and techniques, to better understand how to hold his own against them. Still, this woman is no opponent of his, and as a Grey Warden, outside his sphere of purview anyway.

He steps forward and clears his throat to attempt to catch her attention. "Madam Warden, if I may?"

Library - Guardian 25

[mythalenaste]

People don't usually get this animated about libraries. It's rare enough that Pel sort of has to speak up, and connect with a fellow nerd.

"Got a favorite subject?"

[lifeofendurance]

"History," he replies easily enough, eyes still shining as he browses the titles on the shelf, trying to decide which one to select next. Realizing it's rude to hold a conversation without looking at his companion, he turns, and looks down to see a Dalish elf. It's not lost on him that he's speaking to someone else who could well have a vested interest in history as well. At least to his understanding. What he knows of them has been gleaned from books more than actual exposure.

He plucks one such history book off the shelf and begins to thumb through the pages, looking for something. Meanwhile, he breaks the search by looking up while conversing. "Histories are always more than what is on the page. They are a reflection of the culture and times in which they were written. What a historian does not include in their writing is just as telling as their selection of written content."

library; late guardian

[foxsays]

Since arriving in Skyhold, Araceli has spent plenty of time in the library. Books will always have their place, and though she knows people are her best bet for current information, she misses time spent curled up in a library with her fox squarely on her lap. There’s still much more traffic than she’s used to but when you’ve been trying to engross yourself in history as it relates to Orlesian politics when it’s so new? You need a distraction before your brain threatens to explode.

Looks like she’s just spotted hers.

Sidling over, one finished book of popular tales and songs in her hand (if she’s going to be a bard, she’s doing this properly, she isn’t going to let Leliana down) she makes a face at the the volume of essays. “Are you honestly going to read that?”

[lifeofendurance]

It takes Aleron a moment to realize she's addressing him. A beat longer to process the question asked of him. He turns the book over in his hands, reexamining the title on the spine for a moment, then holds it out somewhat. "For pleasure alone. I can postpone if you have need of it."

He sneaks a glance at her own book at hand, curious as to what interests her. Something musical, it seems. Well then perhaps the essays are not quite needed, but the offer has been made, and it is not his place to make assumptions about the business of others.

Guardian 27; courtyard

[theproperglove]

Josephine knows she needs to spend less time in her office, but the guilt she feels at taking part in any frivolous pursuits has only grown lately, despite her friends' efforts to make sure she takes regular breaks.

Even she has her limits, though, and after an less-than-productive morning where words had finally failed her, she knew she had to do something, anything, to give her mind a proper chance to rest.

She could not begrudge herself a short walk, in the end, and she assured herself that she would be fresh and ready to resume her work afterwards.

It is when she is wandering through the courtyard that she notices one of the Inquisition's newer arrivals, dutifully practicing his swordcraft. Ah. This must be the Seeker.

Lest she disturb him when he is intent in his training, Josephine settles to watch him for a little while, closing drawing near as she waits for an appropriate time to gain his attention. When she senses such a moment, she clears her throat, announcing her presence.

[lifeofendurance]

To be fair, Aleron is as intent on his training as he is anything else he throws himself into. It holds his undivided attention. His livelihood depends on his ability to take note of all details and facts before him and sift them down into truth. Unfortunately he's not as skilled at maintaining positional awareness while wielding a weapon. He should, and in an outright fight he can hold his own well enough. But in a training ring, it allows for beautiful women to sneak up on him unawares.

He actually startles visibly when she clears her throat and he turns to find the source of it. Already he feels quite sheepish for being caught off his guard, and then for breaking his stoicism. There is no mistaking who waits for him to finish, however, and her presence demands he complete his session for the morning. Anything else would be beyond rude.

The sword is sheathed and laid to the side, so Josephine can command his undivided attention. He might not know her, but he certainly knows of her and recognizes her on sight, as well as her position within the Inquisition. She is afforded a formal bow before an address.

"Lady Montilyet. How might I be of service?"

Courtyard

[gatheringstorm]

When Korrin is present in Skyhold, she makes her presence known in the courtyard daily. The Vashoth mage never neglects her training, especially when she has a new path yet to be mastered. That might draw some attention, as the specialized path of the Knight-Enchanter is typically only known to Circle mages and the Chantry-affiliated. Yet, here is the proud apostate, diligently repeating her stances and maneuvers just as she's been taught.

[lifeofendurance]

The style of the woman practicing before him is all too familiar. One cannot have seen a Knight-Enchanter in action and ever mistake it for anything other. It is surprising, not only for her known apostasy, but he had been under the most unhappy impression that most of them had perished at the Conclave. To be a Knight-Enchanter was a position of privilege and skill, and many served as the honor guard of the Divine.

He can see just from watching that these are new maneuvers for her and not merely automatic moving through the motions of old skills long since mastered. Strange that he can see and analyze combat so efficiently and yet never fully master the execution himself. A failing he has yet to fully conquer, though he performs well enough when necessary.

"Well done. I've seen seasoned veterans struggle with that arcing swing."

Courtyard

[dragoon_pride]

Kain is constantly training, always setting aside time from his day to work on honing his skills. He's out there in full dragoon armor along with his usual lance, sometimes stabbing dummies, sometimes working on his jumping and related techniques.

He doesn't usually pay a lot of attention to others there, focusing on his own work. But sometimes, like now, as he's pausing between routines, he does take a moment to watch. It's a good idea to keep some idea of what the others are capable of, he may be fighting alongside them eventually, after all.

Folding his arms, Kain watches and does indeed notice the man practicing with the sword and how he seems to be struggling... "Not your typical weapon?" he asks eventually.

[lifeofendurance]

This new technique is irritating the typically unflappable Aleron. Ever since he was a child, he's had to work and study and work harder to accomplish basic sword skills and techniques. Strategy was always his strong point, but learning how to execute those skills was another case altogether. Having someone witness and comment on his shortcomings never failed to make him push to improve.

After two more attempts, he jabs the blunted blade into the ground to take a breather. "Old weapon, new technique. I'm determined to master it."

Chapel

[ingrid_kief]

Early in the morning, before the sun has even broken over the ramparts, Ingrid makes her way into the chapel, quietly reciting from the Chant of Light in Ander:

"Augen Trauer verblindete, in der Finsternis ungebrochen
Dort auf dem Berg, antwortete eine Stimme meinen Anruf.
'Herz, das gebrochen ist, schlägt noch unaufhörlichen,
Ein Meer von Leid tut niemand ertrinken.
Sie haben, Speertrau Alamarr vergessen.
Innerhalb Meine Schöpfung sind, keine Ruhe'."

Absently, but with reverence, she fingers a pendant around her neck, a dark red bauble suspended from a silver chain.

[lifeofendurance]

It is always a joy and a pleasure to come to the chapel and find others of the faith attending to their devotions. Even in those times when he cannot understand the others, there is a sense of communion in shared belief. While Aleron recognizes the language of the Anders, it's not one he's studied enough to discern which canticle is being recited. Still, he listens, unwilling to disrupt such a sacred moment with trivial greetings or unneeded shuffling about.

It doesn't escape him that she's touching a pendant which seems to have some meaning for her. He's seen them before, always on a Grey Warden. Somehow she doesn't strike him as a Warden, though he could be wrong about that and Aleron knows it.

There is a familiarity in that absent motion though. It takes him some time to recognize why. It is similar to how he absently turns his wedding band on his finger, even after all these years of being alone. A touch to remind him of her, the life they could have had, what he owes to keeping her memory alive.

[aestimo]

She's seen him on quite a few occasions in the Herald's Rest, always keeping to himself. Emmeline's intrigued by him, much like she's intrigued by a lot of things in this mountainous fortress. It could be because he stands out, something good and pure among the rabble-rousers who tend to congregate within the Tavern. The Bard's songs are always delightful, the people joyous no matter the day.

But he's always so serious. She hasn't seen him look genuinely happy any of the times he's been in there, and that definitely concerns her. The Rest was a place of merriment, and her goal in life was to see everyone smile at least once. Twice if she's lucky.

Mug in hand, Emmeline makes her way over to his table, sliding into the seat opposite him without even asking first. Her tone is light, Orlesian by accent. "You always look so serious."

[lifeofendurance]

The sound of a woman's voice in his general proximity snaps Aleron out of his brooding. He blinks twice as the only outward sign of surprise. Having a guest join him is no bother to him and he doesn't mind the company. Truthfully, part of the reason he comes of an evening, even with his sitting in solitude, is to stave off the ever present nagging that he is alone and will ever be so.

"Do I?" He hadn't really considered how he looked to others from the outside. Or that anyone would even noticed him. He's lived in the shadows, pushed away by the family, trained in seclusion by the Seekers, that he doesn't realize that some people still see him. His lack of self-awareness is remarkable given his vocation.