Open | What is a bored clown to do

[maladgogo]

WHO: Guy and whoever happens upon him
WHAT: Guy's trying to distract himself from the situation he's found himself in, and would enjoy some company.
WHEN: Some time in the middle of Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Every one of the threads with Guy should just be considered to have a CW for profuse swearing by default.

Skyhold is a remarkable place. People from all over Thedas call it home, an army calls it base of operations, and now for one young rifter now bereft of his classes, and indeed any way to get the information he needs from those classes, a place to waste time until he's needed elsewhere.

He's found the training ring. He's also found the weapons. He's not swinging them or sparring with anyone, shadows or otherwise. Instead, what he's doing with his commandeered pair of hand hammers is...juggling.

Guy is, undoubtedly, a born performer. He's got stage presence without needing a stage, and a little flair in every move that builds as he walks around the ring. Occasionally he turns in place, sometimes he stops and walks backward, but no matter what he does, his hands never stop moving, the hammers flipping end over end and occasionally dropping back over his shoulder.

He adds another blunt weapon as soon as he can find it, a blunted handaxe, and soon it joins the rest.

Someone can watch, or someone can interrupt him, and all they'll see is the most welcoming expression on someone wearing peasant clothes, like he's delighted to see them, and more likely than not, he really is.

Comments

[maladgogo]

"Honestly? Gettin' kinda restless, sis. Wanted to come back, see about gettin' some kinda established, maybe talkin' at miss Leliana or maybe Lady Josephine. Get some clothes what's mine. Head back out when I ain't quite as lost here." But he hasn't been able to talk to anyone at all and he's getting antsy. It doesn't help that he's spent the last few weeks disgustingly sober. All this clear-headedness can't be good for him.

As he talked, he'd picked his juggling back up, slower, more casual than what he'd been doing. He needs a heavy sphere for contact juggling, but nothing he'd found so far would do for that.

[gatheringstorm]

Giving him room, Korrin's content to watch his renewed juggling. The pace doesn't matter, it's still entertaining. "I completely understand. Watch me get sick of this place in a few days, after I've had my fill of kitchen-raiding and quality tavern time. When you've spent a life on the road, it never takes too long for those feet to start itching again. Besides, we've made great strides but the area's still a mess. I don't think the Inquisition will run out of things for us to do anytime soon."

She tilts her head at him, thoughtful. "Either of the advisors would find a place for you, though I guess it depends on what role you'd prefer to have. Leliana deals with the scouts and bards and the like, whereas Josephine's people are mostly diplomats."

[maladgogo]

He can't help but snort at the idea of himself in any kind of diplomatic position. "Can you even fuckin' imagine me gettin' all up in some fancy shit bein' all beurocratic with them motherfuckers like what's all up in that great hall fuckin' shit? They all givin' me funny looks when I got lost earlier, pretended not to speak english when I asked what was where. Nevermind I fuckin' heard 'em talkin' 'fore I got close to 'em."

Shaking his head, Guy just flips one of the hammers in his hand and looks down at the ground underfoot. "Maybe the scoutin' thing. Can be helpin' people find the fuckin' rifts. Ain't told them what's in charge about bein' able to feel this shit, 'fraid they gonna chain me up, use me as a bloodhound or somethin'. Silly, you all tellin' me how good people is here, but...kinda anxious, y'know?"

[gatheringstorm]

His snort is echoed by Korrin's own, as she was trying to keep a straight face at the thought but his rambling ruined it. But that concern about being imprisoned and used gets a more serious and sympathetic expression out of her, and she nods, not about to dismiss his feelings.

"Hey, you were tossed into a completely different land with a magical shard in your hand. I think you're entitled to feel anxious about it all. And I'm not about to say that shardbearers are well-loved everywhere; one of them inadvertently opened a rift, somehow, and that makes people nervous. But from what I know of Leliana, she's always been a firm advocate of people retaining their freedoms. I can't see her allowing that kind of mistreatment--and you know I wouldn't stand for it myself. The Qun treat their mages that way, and I'm not about to see the same thing happen down south."

[maladgogo]

That was another terms that Guy hadn't learned until now, the Qun. He continues to flip his hammer in hand, fidgeting with it, as he walks over to stand nearer to Korrin.

"I wanted to be learnin' about all this shit when I got here, but pretty lil' elven lady I was talkin' at didn't seem to know much outside'a the Dalish pantheon. Never mentioned Qun. Didn't wanna step on no toes askin' the wrong shit'a the wrong people, myself, but I do wanna know what else I been dropped into. So's I ain't about to get my skull caved in for disrespectin' some motherfucker's god without realizin'."

[gatheringstorm]

"Fair enough, and that's a sound plan. The Inquisition takes whoever they can get, and practicality tends to be more important than backgrounds and creeds, but Skyhold isn't the rest of Thedas. Andrastianism is huge, mages are feared, and spirits are almost always seen as demons, whether they are or not." That's not a subject Korrin has much expertise on, though, so she'd just direct him to a Spirit Healer. Anyway....

"The Qun is a rigid lifestyle practiced by others of my race, who came to this continent a few hundred years ago. It's not a peaceable one, by any means; they attempted to conquer Thedas to enforce it, and only several Exalted Marches managed to drive them back. It's not a done deal, though, and a lot of people believe there's every chance they'll invade again someday.

The Qun itself basically decides your life for you; they pick your role, who you breed with, everything. You don't even have a name, just whatever title you're given. No freedom to speak of, and if you voice disagreement, you're 'reeducated'...brainwashed, basically. My parents were born to that life, but they escaped with a mutual friend who came into his magic. They'd seen how mages are shackled and treated as nothing more than dangerous weapons, and they didn't want that life for him. Later, that man became my mentor when I zapped my way out of a wolf ambush. What goes around comes around."

[maladgogo]

"So you ain't allowed free will, n' they fuck up ya brains if you say no. Harsh, sis, real motherfuckin' harsh. Can't blame ya folks none for rollin' on up outta that." He grimaces some as he says it, finally just catching his hammer and holding it.

"You mentioned Andrastianism, n' elf lady said somethin' about it too, 'bout it bein' about followin' the bride of the Maker. Maker's most peoples' god, right? Got some parallel stories like that where I'm from."

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin nods, glancing over at the statues just outside the main hall, holding braziers of fire. "Right, the Chantry's the dominant religion in Thedas, has been for a millenia. Andraste led Thedas against the tyranny of the Tevinter Imperium, freeing slaves and spreading the word of the Maker. She was betrayed by her husband and martyred, burned at the stake. That's one reason why the dead are burned, in remembrance of her. It's also done to prevent demons from taking them over and creating undead horrors because we really don't need that shit on top of everything else. Except the Nevarrans, but they're weird.

I don't have any quarrel with the Maker personally, but the Chantry's actions prevent me from calling myself Andrastian. They've justified the horrible system most mages have lived unders for age upon age, not to mention what they did to the elves and other marginalized groups. The last thing I want is to be associated with that bigotry, you know?"

[maladgogo]

Guy nods to all of this. Sounds real damned familiar to him.

"My world, we got an analog to that. Pretty much word for word, but it's a dude from the middle east- where they wear their hair pinned up in turbans n' make long pilgrimages for the sake of enlightenment n' believe in shit so strongly that there's been wars over it for the past thousand years. Our dude freed slaves, led his people against the tyranny of a couple'a different empires, though one point was Moses doin' what our version'a the Maker told him to n' getting his promised people outta Egypt. Egypt's weird about they dead too, used to bury 'em in great big fuckin' crypts out in the sand, with all they shit n' sometimes they slaves n' they pets so they ain't lonely on the river Styx. Anyway, our man, he some kinda immortal bein', but books would have you believin' he's just a mortal man blessed by divine light. But I met Carl. He a short lil' beardy dude with great hair n' a heart big enough to take in all the fuckin' world. 'course, he didn't go by Carl back then. Not regional to the dialect he started out with. Used to be Yeshua I think.

"Anyway, people martyred him like that. Stuck 'im up on a crucifix." Guy holds up his hands, crossing his fingers to show what he's talking about. "Stuck 'im with spears, made 'im wear a crown of thorns. He was a good man tryin'a get people to take care'a theyselves n' eachother but some motherfuckers wa'n't about that. No money to be made in helpin' the poor n' the sick, back then. So he ended up stuck in a dark hole, 'til his closest buddy got 'im outta there. Cut to about two thousand years later, n' he lives in the poor neighborhood'a Portsmouth, runs a motherfuckin' clinic, helpin' folks like me what's not big fans'a doctors, or can't afford 'em.

"People called 'im Christ. Still do. So we got this massive shitshow called Christianity. Seems to operate just like how y'all do here with Andraste. Now, me? I ain't got no quarrel wit' none of it, long as it ain't bein' yelled in my face that I'm goin' to hell. Can't really abide that. But I got my own gods n' they ain't hurtin' nothin'."

[gatheringstorm]

The more Korrin listens to him, the more it all sounds very familiar. The specifics may be confusing, but the heart of the story seems the same or close enough. She smirks a little as the Egyptians sound much like the Nevarrans, at least in terms of what she knows about their burial practices. Mention of a crucifix has her recoiling a little and shaking her head, incredulous. "Talk about similarities, hm? Andraste was never anything but human, though the Maker chose her to be his bride, and she didn't return from the dead. She had descendants, though no one knows if any of them area still alive now or who they might be.

I'm sure Chantry mothers and sisters would be scandalized to hear me say this next part, but from what I know of her, I really doubt she'd approve of what the Chantry's become. Some of those slaves she freed were elves, and she gave them the Dales in return for helping her. But of course when the Chantry wants to crush them centuries later, that part of the Chant is struck out as though it never happened. And sure, there's the whole 'magic is meant to serve man and never to rule over him' part but she's not the one who invented the Circles and turned it into the abusive shitshow it was just before the rebellion."

[maladgogo]

"Thing was, Carl only wanted people to see him as human back then. Bring him down to their level, shit like that. Make 'em more willing to approach 'im. He only went out of his way to do shit like miracles when he really wanted people to pay attention. Turned water into wine, fed a legion wit' a fish n' a loaf of bread, that sorta shit. Read all the books on this shit, talked t' the man himself on a couple occasions. Runs a fuckin' all-denominations church there in town, teaches people love n' tolerance n' all that shit. He can't stand how shit's run in his name, persecutin' n' executin' motherfuckers ain't done a damn thing wrong but live as they was born to live, startin' wars n' doin' up legit genocide 'cause it was 'god's will', but he knows if he ever come forward sayin' he was the so-called Second Comin' of Christ, he'd get laughed off the stage, so t' speak. So he keeps t' hisself, does right by his sons n' his city.

"He close t' papa. Took care'a him when he needed to. Bet he woulda liked y'all here too. Woulda been interested in learnin' about Andraste, see about steerin' shit a little more to how she willed it rather than this catholic-lookin' shit y'all got runnin'."

[gatheringstorm]

"He sounds like quite a guy. Miracles, huh? We could use a few of those." A wry smile forms as Korrin shakes her head at that last part. "I'm not saying it's impossible, but change almost always happens violently here. That's the Mage-Templar War in a nutshell. Hell, the Chantry can't even reconcile with itself; Tevinter split off and formed its own Chantry, elected their own Divine at the head of it all. The rest of Thedas calls them heretics, while they no doubt think the same of everyone else. Of course, now we're the ones without a Divine and so the Chantry is leaderless, which leaves a huge vacuum. If there's ever a time for change, it's now, but damned if I know what shape that will take.

Many people still have faith, though, so I wouldn't count on Andrastianism itself falling apart any time soon. When Evelyn -the first to bear a mark like yours, though she was native- emerged from the Fade, some saw a woman behind her. They believe that was Andraste, guiding her out; that's why she was called the Herald of Andraste. Whether or not it's true, I can't say. We never found out before she died sealing the Breach."