faderift | In the darkness I will meet my Creators

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In the darkness I will meet my Creators

WHO: Bardlings and Leliana, Beleth and YOU.
WHAT: Beleth and Araceli meet their bard teacher and have a jam session on the roof, then Beleth can be found practicing elsewhere.
WHEN: Beginning of Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold roof, then the barn
NOTES: Discussions of violence at some point probably.

Bard lessons

Beleth doesn't consider herself to have really met Araceli, just like you wouldn't consider yourself acquainted with someone that you have only seen in a nightmare. That is what that entire journey to and from Antiva seemed to be, as far as she was concerned. One long running nightmare, and one that Beleth was still recovering from. But still, she knows a little of the other woman, enough to be both excited and nervous about their introduction, and their lessons together. Korrin's dating her, so she can't be that bad.

But Beleth is pretty sure she'll be better than the Dalish at this, and that Beleth will spend these lessons being mitigated to second place. At least Zevran had said that she was his favorite.

Of course, now that position has been shuffled down six places, since the arrival of the young Crows. But it's not like Beleth cares or anything.

Meeting on the roof had seemed like a perfectly logical idea to Beleth. It was spacious, quiet, and they wouldn't be interrupted. It was a place of peace, one that she was happy to use for lessons. So Beleth tied the lute to her back, and scaled up the walls to the roof. Once seated, she pulled the lute out, carefully tuning it as she anxiously waited for the other two to arrival.

Open: The barn

The sounds of a lute being quietly plucked at can be heard throughout the barn, and anyone trying to find the source just needs to head upstairs. Tucked away on a block of hay, Beleth sits and in intense concentration, attempts to play. Attempting may be the key word here. The plucking is amateurish, hesitant, and often starts over from the top, repeating the same couple stanzas over and over, until the notes are no longer strung along like a child's attempt at beading.

Occasionally, she attempts to sing along, but the music falters whenever she gets distracted with the song. Usually, she only gets out a handful of words. Oh fiercest fighter-- And then gives up and goes back to the notes.

Her face is a mask of concentration, and whenever she stumbles over notes, her eyebrows knit in a scowl. But, despite that, she's actually...quite happy. Concentrating on the music, pouring out her frustrations into writing songs and putting notes to them, it made her feel better. It gave her some manner of control, and it gave her something to distract her mind. It gave her the ability to make something beautiful.

--Or something that will be beautiful, eventually, she's sure. She sighs as she mangles the timing of another handful of notes. Stupid rests.

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Nerva had been careful to hear for news of Beleth's return. The frantic pace of Cade' attack hadn't leant itself to hesitation - and she had dragged Cade off almost immediately afterwards. But that didn't mean she wasn't concerned about the outcome of it. So when she was given word that Beleth had returned, she made her way off to find her --

Only to frown as she heard the cautious plucking at a lute, and a hesitant near-whispered song along with it. She made her way up the stairs to look - and found the elf tucked into a corner sitting on hay.

"Were you badly hurt?" She says, jumping straight to the point with no needless things like 'Hello' or 'I did not know you played the lute'. Though both, perhaps, could be inferred from her tone.

How telling the attack had effected her laid less in her ordinary demeanor, and more in how she reacted when she was surprised, when she couldn't hurriedly put her mask of sweetness on. Such as: When random intimidating women appeared out of nowhere. Instantly in flight mode, she jumps back, only saved from falling off her perch when her back thumps into a tall stack of hay. For a single moment, she looks like a deer about to bolt, eyes wide and fearful.

Then the moment is over, and she slides down back onto the bale of hay she'd been sitting on, fingers wrapped white-knuckled tight around the neck of the lute. Slowly, she resumes breathing, and pulls a neutral expression on. "Oh, hello, ma'am. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention--But. Um. I'm quite fine, as you can see." Like she hadn't just had a year shaved off her life by Nerva's sudden interruption.

She does look well, for the most part--there's a scar across the bridge of her nose, which now leans to the left a bit more than it did before, but the bruises and little cuts and scraps have been healed away.

There were two reasons Michel visited the barn. The first had been to learn trap making from Zevran and to continue to practice it, especially given how useful it had been to him in Emprise du Lion. The second was to drag down square bales of hay for horses--the man had an affinity for the creatures, preferring a softer more legumes hay over grassier more abrasive hay. That sort of hay was better suited for bedding and less so for diet in his opinion.

That was the reason he found himself up in the hayloft, he had...fond memories of this place. Memories that involved a certain elf that need not be shared. It had been a few days since they last spoke and the conversation had been so intense that it was difficult to return to him, but Maker he had an ache for his company. He shook out those thoughts and focused more on the task at hand. Usually cautious about climbing up here for obvious reasons, but when all he heard was the sharp twang of a lute he felt it was safe enough.

When his eyes fell upon the lute player in question he gave her a cursory look, nothing lingering, but a glimpse of recognition that was followed by a nod, "bonne journée."

Orlesian, Chevalier, but he was not wearing armor today, a simple tunic, breeches, and boots were fine for honest work...and armor was much too heavy for such tasks.

Sometimes it isn't strange to hear music in random places in Skyhold, but not being able to find the source of it was. Course that had Sam curious as to what and who was making the noise today when he went to the barn, just someplace he sometimes stopped to think.

The music - or attempts at music - were rather easy to follow and it isn't long before Sam finds himself going up the stairs and looking around the blocks of hay. At finding a familiar face he pauses, tilting his head curiously as he watches for a moment. After a few attempts he eventually walks on over, trying not to make a lot of noise as he does so.

"That sounds nice."

"Brava, Little Bird." Zevran applauds from the ladder, peering up. Settimo had told him of Beleth's attempts at music and her successes- his interest in the girl leaves him somewhat wary. How much he means sincerely and how much he means in jest is ever a question- as is what might come of it.

Beleth is easy to twist about if you know how to read her. Settimo? Had been trained to do so. It wouldn't take much to ruin what work he's put into giving her the space for her to stand on her own legs. But he approaches with a smile, swinging himself up to listen.

Carrying a lute on her back was fear easier than scaling walls and buildings with a fox slung over her shoulders. Not that such a sight had been witnessed yet in Skyhold with only ground to break their fall but it was the principle of the thing. No announcement preceeded her, just dark curls blowing in the wind before she pushed herself up and over the roof to set the lute down with care, tugging her hair free from where she'd tucked it in the collar of her coat.

"Beleth Ashara," she greeted, no hesitation. It had hardly been the time for introductions when rescuing Zevran but she was good at faces, and Dalish faces stood out for the Vallaslin though there was a chance the emphasis went in the wrong place for the name. Such was the problem of finding oneself in an unfamiliar world where only Antivan sounded anything like home. "Araceli Bonaventura, at your service."

Beleth started when she heard someone speak, turning with a look of surprise. But it's a face she recognizes. Not because she's ever spoken to the man, but Zevran was more than just a teacher, he was a valued friend. Which meant she had some inkling of the people he spent a lot of time around--and this one in particular had made her worry. Messing with Orlesian nobles lead to nothing but ill.

But Michel is only given a pleasant smile, and a bob of the head, when she sees him approaching. She keeps her eyes lowered, deferential and amicable.

"Ser, I apologize, I didn't realize you could hear. I'm afraid none of my songs are fit to be heard by a Chevalier such as yourself." They aren't fit to be heard by anything with ears, and at least some ability to sense tune, but she'll hold off on admitting to that. And she supposes, overall, that it's a good thing that Michel has appeared in front of her like he has. It'll be a good time to try to do a little investigating.

Which will be done strictly with the greatest of pleasantries, of course.

Zevran can catch a bit more of the words of the song, just above a whisper to the music. Oh fiercest fighter, when will you see, all of the greatness--

Then Beleth hears the voice and she starts, eyes wide. Jerking around to see who it is, she calms down slightly when her visitor is just Zevran. It's been a while, but they've both had things going on. She's pretty glad that he's approached her, but the reasoning for it--She's going to assume it was just for the music. Zevran's got more than enough stuff going on in his life for her to try to bring her own mediocre issues into it.

"Thank you. I need to keep practicing it, if I'm going to be able to play it in time for the soiree." She smiles sheepishly at him, ducking her head. "I don't know if I'll be able to, but I guess we'll see. Sister Leliana has been a great help."

Beleth starts a little, when Sam speaks suddenly, turning to look at him with surprise. She relaxes when she sees that it's just him, settling back into her spot.

"You're flattering me." She smiles when she says it, though. "It needs a lot of practice before I'm ready to debut it. Being able to play the whole thing through first would be a nice start." She doesn't sing any more, but she does keep plucking at the strings, trying to practice speaking and playing at the same time. "I want to get this ready for the soiree that Vivienne is hosting. I'm not sure if it'll be ready, though."

He's heard some music since he's gotten here, from the tavern in the form of the lady with her lute, raucous singing, other such happenings, admittedly it isn't the richest form of entertainment around Skyhold. He still thinks that, even when he peeks into the stables. He's been familiarizing himself with the hold, and he wants to meet the animals.

Instead of greeting the horses, the dracolisks, or the hart, he catches sight of Beleth plinking on her instrument and looking frustrated. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, shoulder against the frame. When he heard a tune starting to come together, he hummed along quietly. He'll give her a beat if she likes, but for now, he's content just to listen to what she's laying down herself.

"Might help if you get writin' bits down," he suggests after a few moments. "Inspiration's a hard motherfucker to pin n' make somethin' of."

Michel raises and eyebrow as it was something of a peculiar thing to say, but he thought nothing of it beyond that. He'd come up here for hay, after all, finding a bard, was it? practicing their craft had been unexpected, but not an intrusion on his task. Certainly his own reasons for being here were not an intrusion on her own and when he did approach her it wasn't necessarily for conversation, or to make her uncomfortable for that matter, it was for another bale of legumes enriched hay that just so happened to be near her.

"I had not meant to interrupt your practice, your playing sounds fine to me..." but Michel was not a discerning man about such things, if for no other reason than his exposure to music and musicians themselves was more perfunctory and less reflective. Particularly if they were bards, he had a tricky relationship with bards.

"...The horses need feeding so I came for this," he gestured to the bale of hay near to her with its specific qualities, unaware that he was about to be engaged in a conversation regardless, "you do not mind if I take this?"

Sam smiles a bit wider having been able to sneak up on her though glad he hadn't startled her too much. Moving around to take a seat on a bale in front of her, he watches with interest at how her fingers dance over the strings.

"I am not. True it needs a lot of work, but what you have does rather nice. Course I can't play an instrument so what little you're doing is rather impressive to me." It's good to see Beleth trying to do something rather than just trying to hide from the rest of Skyhold. Well we kind of was, but not for the same reasons it seemed.

"I'm sure if you practice enough you can. Are you taking any lessons from someone?"

"You will manage beautifully. If you need additional pointers or someone to practice with? I am always available." He saunters to her side, patch nestled neatly over his wounded eye. He's growing more and more accustomed to it the longer days roll on but for now? The patch.

And for now? A few pointed questions.

"Beleth- I need to ask you something you may not wish to answer." A beat. "Have you been intimate with Settimo?"

"I wouldn't mind. I think the hard part right now is trying to get all the notes memorized and timed just right--And then, play them while I talk." She plunks away at the lute as she speaks, trying to get that divide of concentration right. "But if you have any sugg--"

Any attempts at concentration are thrown right out the window, and set on fire, and probably trampled a little, when he asks about her relationship with Settimo. She coughs breathlessly a few times, face heating up as she wheels around to face him. "You--You mean like. Like--" Vague hand waving. "--Like that? No! Creators, no. I don't--No. We haven't done anything like that." She looks vaguely unsettled--though she looks like that just about any time that the conversation involved both herself and sex. But she still can't help but flush.

Nor can she help but glance at Zevran after a moment's pause. "Did he say something to you? About me?" If Settimo was talking to Zevran about that, well--She didn't know what to think. That was. Odd.

"But you have kissed." Settimo knew better than to lie to him about such things- less out of trust and more out of bone deep terror for being parted from the rest of his flock. A part of him is loathe to have this conversation- the rest knows full well that leaving this be? Will end poorly for both of them. Beleth will be happily led along and Settimo won't think twice of it, assuming Beleth knows her own mind well enough to be able to avoid such manipulations.

A mess none of them need.

"He said you knew what you were about. I had to remind him of the rule that they are not to attempt to seduce or charm anyone into their beds or their way into anyone else's until they understand what it is to not be among the Crows. I think, perhaps, I ought to explain to you what it is to be among them so you understand what you were playing into unknowingly."

"Ah. Well. Yes." That blush certainly wasn't improving, and Beleth glances away from Zevran, nervously fiddling with the lute. "It's just--Well, I mean, I don't want to bed him, Zevran. Not that there's anything wrong with him, I just--" Briefly, she wonders if she prays hard enough, perhaps another rift will open up, right under her, and she can escape this conversation.

Alas, neither Creators nor Maker are that merciful.

"It's just playing around. Kissing and things like that. It's nothing serious." Beleth? Get emotionally attached to someone giving her the attention and affection she craved? That's just nonsense. "I mean--People do that. Just. Flirt and kiss and not mean anything. And they don't take the other person to bed." She paused, finally glancing up to Zevran.

"...I know he really isn't that interested in me, if that's what you're going to tell me. It's okay. I just--like pretending, for a little bit."

Ah, good. They were both there. Leliana had waited, a sly distance away. Curious to see if they were early, on time, how one might greet the other. It was cautiously done, and not lightly so, taking on students to be bards. Part of her wonders if it is still the most sensible course, if it is best for them, but they are adults, more than capable of making decisions for themselves. (Or so she hopes. They are not yet bound to her, or to this, the two of them.)

She appears a few moments after Araceli, by slightly more conventional means, though her movements are easy and apparently unhindered by the chainmail hanging from her shoulders. She has her lute with her, even, though she does no yet know if she intends to play it. It has been restrung, courtesy of a gift from Madame de Fer, yet remains unplayed. It seems folly, to consider reacquainting herself with it so publicly.

"You are both here. Good." The first thing she does is hand over a roll of parchment to each of them. "There are different books on each of these lists, though we will add to them through our lessons. Books on the history of Thedas, though I doubt I need tell either of you that history books are not to be taken at their word. Nor any book, as a general rule."

Still, she allows herself a smile - thin, barely present, but still there. "What do you both understand bards to be?"

May as well get right into it. They are none of them here to linger.

"He is not pretending, he is attempting to pay for his life with affection and feels you an appropriate merchant for that coin. They have tried and failed much the same with me already, hence the rule. Were it mere playful teasing and friendly kissing? We would not be having this conversation. But it is not so simple as that, Beleth." For a Crow? It never would be. Unlearning this is just as vital as unlearning that they were worth noting.

Teaching that is...difficult, but he is managing. Day by day. Explaining it may help him all the more even if he does not quite enjoy it.

"What would you say the worth of a life is? Most would argue it to be priceless or impossible to put a value to. Every Crow, knows precisely how much they are worth. They paid three sovereigns for me. Settimo? Two and ten silver. You learn this when you are young, in the Crows, so you know what you owe them. It does things to a person to know how much coin they are worth, Beleth. Then to be told in their training they are worth even less than that? That they are expendable? He is desperate to remain, to have this chance at freedom. He knows he cannot find my favor in such a way as I know the game and am trying to discourage it. By finding yours he can, perhaps, cement his place here as you have my favor. Vita has tried much the same with Alistair." It is adorable and more than a little mortifying for the Warden.

She looks up when she hears humming, a small smile on her face when she recognizes the face. One of the rifters, a rather nice one overall. Though most of them seemed to be pretty pleasant...? But then, they probably understood their dependency on the Inquisition--it was certainly a position that Beleth wouldn't want to be put in.

She tries to keep playing even as she speaks, though occasionally she has to stop speaking or playing, when her attention can't quite divide evenly. That's going to be one of the hardest problems, she thinks. "I've got the words written down. And ideas for the tune--where it gets higher and lower. I know that there's a way to write down the music notes, but..." She shrugged. "I'm still learning. Mostly, I'm just playing it by ear right now. And I wrote the song, so...at least no one can tell me I'm doing it wrong. Just that it sounds bad."

She snorts a little. "I'll get to that in time, too."

"You flatter me." She replies demurely, keeping her eyes cast down, even as she begins to pluck at the lute again. She's under no delusions of her lack of skill--She had little in the way of natural talent for it, and she was only just beginning to practice enough to make up for it. But still, who didn't like to be complimented?

Beleth nods when he gestures to the bale of hay, quietly wondering why anyone would mind. It's not like he was after the one she was sitting on. Still, it's probably done out of politeness. "Take as many as you desire, ser, they are not mine to keep. I'm sure the horses will appreciate it."

She pauses after a moment, pondering how to continue. After some thought, she continues on. "I must admit, ser, I have never seen a Chevalier in person. I'm surprised you've come all the way to Skyhold. Do you miss your family, or did you have them come with you? All in all, it's not a bad place to bring children--I imagine few safer places in all of Orlais."

"Thank you," he responded, nodding in acknowledgement before hefting the bale onto his shoulder and preparing himself to climb back down to the stables. It wasn't that he did not find the company pleasant, she was perfectly delightful, but she did unnerve him a bit. Most Dalish had that effect on him given his past experiences, so he did tread lightly.

"Most of them are no doubt caught up in the war, I'd been drawn to the problems happening in Emprise du Lion which, incidentally, coincided with the Inquisition," the second part of her question did raise an eyebrow and he shook his head, "I've no family to miss or to bring with me, I was part of a dying line of nobility and once my parents were dead I was sponsored by a distant relative who is now deceased."

Not the whole truth, but he wasn't about to give up his secrets.

Beleth silently thinks, ungraciously, that the Inquisition has already told her what her life is worth to them. But the comparison is unfair, and she knows it. Moreover, she's not the subject of this discussion, and she doesn't want it to turn to her. This is about Settimo--about all of Zevran's new students.

She blanches as Zevran continues on, though a voice in the back of her mind tells her that she shouldn't be surprised. That the only reason somebody would show interest in her was because they needed her for something. That they thought that they had to, in order to survive. And she's not sure if that's worse, or the idea that Zevran thought she was complicit in it. At least, she reasons, if he thought that she was knowingly doing it, this conversation would be much different. But with that out there, she decides that the best thing to do is to lay down the full truth of the matter. For better or worse.

She glances away again, fidgeting with the lute--not as much playing it as just messing with it, letting her fingers have something to do. "I--Um. I figured out that's what he was trying, when we were on the way back to Skyhold. I'd been, um. Unhappy to have them there. I figure he was trying to make sure that I didn't find a way to murder them before they got to Skyhold." Which wasn't an unfair worry, honestly. "But--Realizing what he was doing? Why he was doing it? I guess it helped really...sink in, what kind of life they led. That's what made me stop being angry, more than any attempts to hook up with me." The full truth was that his flirtations had, in the end, benefited him--after all, the only reason she came to her conclusion was because his attention had lowered her guard enough to let her speak to him. But. No need to be that truthful.

"And I told him that I'd help them, that he didn't owe me anything. That he didn't need to do anything." She paused for a moment, strumming the lute thoughtfully. "I told him he could braid my hair, if he really needed to do something. But I wasn't being serious." Was that where she'd gone wrong? Did hair braiding lead to this situation? Creators give her strength. "But then he was still doing it when we got to Skyhold, so I thought...I mean. I know he's not really interested in me. That isn't a surprise." He was gorgeous and charming, and she was. Her. "But I thought..."

She trails off, and shrugs. It doesn't really matter, at this point. "I'm sorry, Zevran. I'll stop, um. The kissing. And whatnot."

She frowns in response to his smile, glancing away from him. Well, at least he's amused by his ability to scare a woman who's become remarkably twitchy since Emprise du Lion. Someone might as well get something positive out of it. She doesn't speak for a few moments, but she knows that she can't pout every time someone startles her. So she shrugs, and turns back to the lute.

"Sister Leliana." Attention mostly on the lute now, she focuses on trying to rehearse the notes that she'd spun together for the song. "She's been teaching me how to become a bard. It's been interesting." She says it casually, like it's no big deal that a spymaster is training her to become an entertainer that doubles as an assassin and spy. Hopefully, mostly spying. "Which is why I want to be ready for the soiree. That's the kind of thing that bards attend. I'll be practicing more than just my lute. I'll be practicing all that--the social stuff. Speaking with Orlesian nobles." She was more worried about the music. Orlesian nobles? She could handle them just fine, they were even easier to sweet talk than most of the people she spoke to.

Beleth stands when she sees Araceli approach, smiling politely. If Araceli had made any errors in pronunciation, Beleth doesn't bother to correct her. Instead, she just bobs her head to the other woman. She seems pleasant enough, and Beleth knows better than to judge anyone on their behavior on the trip to Antiva. It was...not a normal circumstance. It'll be nice to get to meet her in a more amicable environment. "It's a pleasure, Araceli. Korrin speaks very highly of you. I'm glad that we'll be learning together."

Which isn't strictly true, because having another student means competition. It means the distinct possibility that Araceli will outshine Beleth, and she'll be shuffled to the side. But that certainly didn't need to be stated.

When Leliana joins them, Beleth bobs her head to her as well, the polite smile still on her lips. She accepts the parchment, and looks over the lists. It's a good thing she already started trying to acquaint herself with the books written by the humans on history, though there's a wry twist to her smile when Leliana states that the history books are not to be taken at their word.

At Leliana's question, the elf blinks, glancing to the side for a moment as she pondered this. Finally, she spoke up. "Bards are people who use their words as weapons. For multiple kinds of battles. In balls or in the field."

At the frown and having Beleth look away, Sam's smile drops some. Apparently having shown up like that had not been taken well. He hadn't meant to upset her.

"... You're becoming a bard, Beleth?" And being taught by the Nightingale no less. He's quiet for a bit after that, letting her practice some, listening to the notes she's plucking on the lute. "Well you have some time yet, I'm sure you'll make it. Course there is 'social stuff' like you said. Do you have an outfit?"

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In the darkness I will meet my Creators

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I AM SO SORRY fashionably late fashionably late

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