faderift | I've learned from life

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I've learned from life

WHO: Leliana & Ruby ~~sorry Herc~~ and you.
WHAT: going to be a mesh of open starters and closed starters for Rubes and Lelski
WHEN: second half of Drakonis and into... whatever the next month is called
WHERE: various! mostly Skyhold.
NOTES: content warnings to be added as necessary.
There will be some open starters and other stuff coming up, more details when that's done :]b
Alternatively if we'd discussed a thread then feel free to chuck up a starter for that!

because gifs make up for disorganisation

OPEN STARTERS WILL BE HERE SOMEDAY

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Obi-Wan Kenobi was a man who often denied his own desires. He'd sacrificed his own pride on the altar of necessity more than once. However. However, not once had he not gone snooping when the urge prompted him. It'd gotten him in bad trouble, more than once-- and gotten him what he needed twice as often. And besides, he heard birds up there.

That had been more than an hour ago.

Now, Obi-Wan was seated on a small stool (he'd hardly stolen it, really, only moved it a few feet from its original home) and was regaling a rapt audience of Ravens with the tales of Jedi heroics. They were enormous creatures, larger than any raven he could remember, and there was a fierce, wicked intelligence behind each glistening pair of eyes. That, and they were all gathered around him, hanging on every turn of the story, made him sure: they could understand him.

"So, I looked over, chained to the stone, mind you, and who should I see?" He addressed this to the bird nearest his left. It gave him a questioning quork, right on que, "...Anakin, my young Padawan, also chained up. He said he had come to rescue me. Can you believe that?"

They could not.

Edited 2016-03-20 01:37 (UTC)

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the Rookery, Leliana goes still, and then moves very carefully. It is an immediate lapse back into old habits, ascending the stairs silently, making herself as invisible as it is possible for a person to be short of magic. Simply because she has taken to a tower does not make her any less a bard, and when she realises what she is unfolding before her, Leliana crosses her arms and observes her ravens and the... intruder... with quiet disbelief. A quick glance reveals that her locked cabinets have remained undisturbed, rigged with a mechanism that will burst an explosive goop over the poor fool who tries to pick them open. Since the man is goop-free, she assumes he has at least not stolen that information.

Even so, when she clears her throat, her arms are cross, brow arched, and she does not sound or look especially pleased.

"Indeed I cannot," she starts, earning a couple peering looks (best summarised as :V!) from Ser Quillby and Varric Feathras. "What is your purpose here?"

In the very brief moment before Obi-Wan replied, he took in the situation as a whole. The birds, crowded around him like a gaggle of younglings. The room with its scattering of personal and religious artifacts, the detritus of an office, well-used, but isolated, hardly used to uninvited through-traffic despite the lack of an obvious door. And then there was Leliana herself, quiet with poise, but not the simple silence, no-- the killing silence. A woman who understood what to do with a threat.

He looked at the ravens. They looked back.

He looked at Leliana. She regarded him steadily.

"...This isn't what it looks like," It is, in fact, exactly what it looks like, "I was just...poking around and..."

Would you believe this man a renowned diplomat? He is. Obi-Wan is known in multiple systems for his wit and turn of phrase. Today, his clever tongue has abandoned him; for all his inattention, he's embarrassed to be found talking to birds.

"...I can see that I'm the entertainment for this afternoon," He finally settled on, much chagrined, in acknowledgement of his own floundering, "I apologize for coming into what is clearly not my place, uninvited."

"'Poking around,'" she echoes, "in the Spymaster's tower? We do not look kindly upon espionage against the Inquisition."
Although, in truth, what kind of spy would deliberately linger in the tower and talk to the ravens and draw the attention of the Nightingale? A good one, a grimmer part of her notes, and Leliana has grown too cautious and seen too much to dismiss it outright.

Despite knowing she must remember this, must double check to see what scout was meant to be present and observing and who left their post and that this man showed any interest in being here at all and filing all that away, Leliana shakes her head.

"They are intelligent creatures, and entirely deserving of more... entertaining diversions." One of the ravens hops along closer, and she catches its eye. "Is that not right, Squawke?" The raven hops and then flaps its wings lazily to alight on her raised forearm, carefully inspecting her hand for a treat, which she finds with a smug avian squawk. Chatty, this one.

And then Leliana looks back to her guest. "I do not believe we are yet met," she starts, stroking the raven's head, and act made more challenging by its insistent angling of its head for more attention. "I am Sister Nightingale. Some call me Leliana."

In the tower she must always be the Nightingale first.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rise a few inches. Spymaster's tower, was it? The floor had a hole. Come to think of it, the roof had a hole. Anyone who could get up there could... He swiftly covers his surprise, as well as could be expected. In a world without electronic security, it may be that you found whatever methods you could.

"I heard the birds, from below," He explains, indicating the balcony with one hand. There, below, in the library, as relatively unrestricted as it ultimately was, "I am not a spy."

Which is, he realizes only slightly too late, probably what a spy would say. Probably what anyone would say, who didn't want a fight-- not that he did. Sigh.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service," He tries for friendly, careful to keep both his hands in easy view. No sense in being alarming, after all, "Nightngale? That's...a bird, isn't it? I'm beginning to sense a pattern."

Yes... yes. She never said it was an ideal location, but she is adept at working with what she has. His surprise is noted, the raise of his eyebrows, perhaps... a note of incredulity, as well? The minutia of his expression are noted, at any rate, to be assessed and picked apart later, if need be.

"Ah, of course. If you say so." The words take on a deceptively humourous tone, although there is a deliberate you already know how ridiculous that was, don't you? air to the way she cants her head and looks at him, Squawke turning to peer at him as well. "But they are rather charming, so I cannot fault you for that so completely."

Her tension, her eternal caution, will remain. It is not a personal judgment, it is simply a necessity of who she is and where she has found him. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," she repeats, committing it to memory. Still, some of the tension in her back has eased. He has not heard of the Nightingale, his name is so unusual for Thedas. "A Rifter, I take it?"

Less likely to be a dangerous agent, but it would be so easy to lie, if one had a shardbearer turned to another purpose. Still, feigning ignorance about nightingales would be a rather subtle touch. If he is a spy, he's very good, but she is beginning to doubt it more and more. "They are nothing much to look at, but they have the most remarkable song. A gifted spy should be able to move without catching attention, no?"

"Is it that obvious?" That he's a Rifter surely is. Obi-Wan shows her his palm so casually, despite the portents. The shard there glows a gentle fade-green even through his glove, if you know to look for it, and his mouth twists wry to acknowledge the circumstances, "It's a fine metaphor. Very poetic, I'm sure."

All that's required for evil to take command of extended bird puns is for good men not to take them first, after all. How reassuring that Leliana is here to ensure that Ravens and other carrion-birds have already been co-opted for some version of the forces of Good-- such as they might be. Such is the power of the preemptive strike.

"Forgive my impertinence, but may I ask you a question? In your professional capacity as the spymaster, rather."

Leliana pauses before responding, deliberate habit rather than because she's searching for an answer.

"Obi-Wan is not a name I would anticipate encountering in Thedas," she replies, and she also certainly does not let her gaze flicker towards his gloved hand. Such details are cataloged with great care and efficiency. always.

But Squawke has apparently had enough of Leliana, and is peering at the guest storyteller, now, hopping along her arm and inspecting to see if Obi-Wan has any treats to share. Leliana ignores the bird, retaining her focus on her guest, instead.

"Of course," comes the reply, polite, tempered with curiousity and quiet caution. They are undercurrents, her emotions, but that makes them no less present - dangerous, when the moment strikes. "Would you like to sit?" And she gestures to her desk. Perhaps she has done enough in the way of establishing this as her realm, her place. It did not win games to always be uninviting, and there was much she wished to understand of Rifters.

"Thank you," It's a delicate dance, this. He did not especially want to sit-- but to refuse a reply so politely phrased would seem insulting. He sits, as indicated, and waits with equal politesse for Leliana to take her own stance, "It wasn't my intention to stumble into your sanctum. But, having met you, I'm-- concerned."

Is a polite way of putting it, to be sure. Obi-Wan is the diplomatic one.

"What can you tell me, about a woman named Galadriel?"

Her shoulders tense, back slowly turning rigid as she claims the seat opposite him. Leliana holds herself upright at all times, but there is a tension in her now that is akin to the bow drawn tight, pushed to its limits. She does not mind letting someone see her anger, in this, her palms flat against the worn wood of her desk.

"You concerns are well justified," Leliana replies, voice lower and rougher. "Galadriel is an elven woman from another world, much esteemed by our own elves. The elvhen of this world have had much stripped from them, have been treated with cruelty that cannot be done justice with the spoken word. Galadriel is, I think, a balm. She reminds them of what they might have been, even as the differences are doubtless still present."

Her jaw clenches and unclenches. Controlled, deliberate, as much as gesture of anger as she can allow herself, even if it shines in her eyes. "She was wrongfully imprisoned by another Advisor of the Inquisition, a preventative measure for the risk she might present. Seeker Pentaghast," and the title is bitten out with no small disdain, "believes her a threat. A danger to this Inquisition, and I find it hard to believe that there is no prejudice in her decision."

A moment, and she gazes at Obi-Wan, scrutinising. "My efforts to free her would have been far greater, but my work has demanded me here. I cannot see how the Inquisition can stand as a positive force for change, if we are to see mages and elves denigrated, if Rifters are to be treated with harshness and suspicion, and Galadriel's imprisonment is all those things bound into one foul act."

(tldr; she mad)

"Hm, yes, this correlates with what I've heard as well," Obi-Wan replied, one hand absently stroking over his chin as he thinks. This could be helpful, "You represent part of the Inquisition's leadership, it's only natural that you've been occupied, particularly with an, ah-- founding member..."

He tilted his hand towards her, fingertips loose with the accompanying grimace as if to indicate all of Cassandra's interrogations, depredations on, lack of a better word, the sovereign liberties of the Rifters, as a people. With all that and the recent madness with the Warden's prisoner, someone had to manage to daily upkeep, after all. More than one.

"You wish to lead by example; that's commendable. I cannot speak for more than my own experience, as a Rifter, but in my opinion, treating us as no more than another group of powerless refugees is a dangerous choice to make," Obi-Wan sighed, leaning subtly in to Lelina's aura of aggrieved emotion, "If for no other reason, than because of what's happened here. Rumors only grow, and fear can be a powerful catalyst. I'm afraid that someone, rifter or otherwise, will do something unwise, for Galadriel's sake. What will happen to them, I wonder?"

What, indeed? If Cassandra were the deciding factor, anyone who spoke against her would spend time in a cell, for as long as she pleased.

"Thank you for speaking with me about this," he hesitated, "May I call you Leliana? I'd prefer us to be friends."

A nod. He understands, it seems, and she begins to wonder what it was that Obi-Wan did in his home world. The thought is not forgotten, simply set aside for later consideration, if the answer does not present itself. He seems to understand the complexities of leadership, at least better than some others. She does not doubt that there are those who would condemn her not for taking action herself, and immediately at that, incapable of seeing the webs they might blunder through.

"Precisely. Even worse that Thedas already punishes people for the circumstances of their birth, whether that be that they are an elf of the cities or the Dales, or if they have the gift of magic. Rifters are in danger of being treated as no better - or even worse." Leliana takes a moment, and considers. She does not know what this man understands of the Chantry. She knows that she, herself, is considered a radical, an outlier, and not always worthy of voice because she lived a worldly life before embracing her faith, and even after it.

"I believe the Chantry has twisted much in this world with its teachings," she starts, by way of response, "and those teachings stray far from the love and peace that Andraste wished to spread, and the tyranny she fought. The Chantry has warped the very message of the woman they so revere and whose blessings they claim to share. The Chantry would condemn Rifters with little hesitation, I think. They breed small-mindedness in Thedas. I cannot believe that is the will of the Maker, but He is the justification so many use for their cruelty."

Her expression is grave, her words and her passion for it utterly sincere, for all that she keeps herself checked. "I am not a woman of many friends, but I welcome them when they come. I would be glad for you to call me Leliana."

Although two of her friends recently stabbed her in the back, so the word 'friend' is a complicated one for her, at best.

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I've learned from life

Birb Is the Word

consider: leliana and obi-wan develop the thedas angry birds equivalent

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