Got no credit and I got no fear

[arsebiscuit]

WHO: Sera Mai Bhalsych of Korse and OPEN
WHAT: Sera comes back to Skyhold
WHEN: Last few weeks of Drakonis
WHERE: All over Skyhold
NOTES: If you'd like a personalized starter or have any questions, feel free to contact me via PM or at thepenguinred

Herald's Rest

While her room's been mysteriously stolen by a mysterious shiteface, the tavern is still Sera's home in Skyhold. Drinking, playing cards, trying to avoid the weirdly intense gaze of the lady bard, Sera can be found doing them all now that she's finally back. As the night goes on the cheating becomes more flagrant and the stories louder, accompanied by wider and more dramatic arm flailing and occasional reenactments. Eventually, she tells the Tale Of The Time Cassandra Punched a Bear's Heart Out And It Got All Over The Herald's Clothes And I Laughed Then Shot Other Bears With Arrows. During her demonstration of the punch, she throws her hand back a little too hard and fast, hitting someone or knocking a drink over. But dealing with that has to wait until the story's done.

Out and About

Sera hadn't spent much time in the old fortress since she'd had to go off on Very Important Jenny Business (Possibly Involving Fire Ants and Honey), so it's time to get to know the place by the back of her hand again before starting up her services to the local community. Every hidden passage and unlocked (and unoccupied locked) room gets poked and prodded as the week goes on. All expect for one very specific room where she knows Creepy Cole likes to linger in, like some stupid ghost of the attic. Unless there's a juicy conversation to be overheard, she doesn't bother with stealth, just walking in and up to anything and anyone that strikes her. Anyone looking particularly servant-like will be getting chatted up whether the like it or not, along with most everyone else she comes across.

Comments

[seesobserves]

It will become more apparent as she starts to fiddle with the contents of the desk that it belongs to someone who is either accustomed to having their things touched, or paranoid enough to take security measures.

Some of the pots contain things which might be there for some legitimate reason, or might be there to put off the overly nosy — a single eyeball, for instance. The air-tight jars have bits of parchment secured under the lids, which start to change color when exposed to the damp atmosphere of the Undercroft.

And then there's the drawer. It's unlocked, but if Sera slides it open, she'll be greeted with a mechanism that sprays dark ink up toward her face and shoulders.

[arsebiscuit]

Ugh. Bits. The eyes and nonsense are ignored or, when she starts feeling it's watching her, tossed out of the undercroft by way of that weird open cliff thing. Changing colors are all well and good, the owner's gonna know there was a looting based on the looting bit. She waits a bit to make sure the first one doesn't explode, then carries on.

The drawer gets some revenge though. Her hair's gonna be darker for a bit, but after the first minute of swearing, she can appreciate enough to laugh.

Then cover her hands in the ink and start spreading it over inch of the work station she can. Fair was fair.

[seesobserves]

A short while later, when Sherlock returns to the workstation, he takes only a moment to take in the extent of the chaos before he begins breaking down the details.

This wasn't Zevran. It's too simple, too petty. Not much of a pattern in anything that's missing, either: a few useful components, suggesting the person knew what it was they were taking, but then, well... the eyeball. The word ransacked comes to mind.

Sherlock tests a bit of the ink with the pad of his thumb — still tacky in places. It can't have been more than an hour since the perpetrator left. Judging by what he can see of the hand impressions (small, with slender digits), it was most likely a woman. Possibly an elf.

Now it's only a question of what became of her. Sherlock doubts he'll need to track her down entirely on his own: if there's one thing the people of Skyhold seem to relish, it's a chance for gossip. All he has to do is go up to the Great Hall and drop hints about an ink-stained girl running about the castle. Someone must have seen her leaving.

[arsebiscuit]

She hadn't much tried to cover her tracks, the ink was all fair play to her after someone set the trap to start. But it has more than one use. Sera sprinted off to Solas' 'office' after, adding some elf handprints to one of his murals. It involved running through the main hall, witnesses could be found.

But now the mission was finding ways to get the damn stuff off. Couldn't really pick locks like this, could she? The library lurkers probably knew a trick for it.

[seesobserves]

The people in the Great Hall were able to point Sherlock toward the rotunda, where he found a couple of helpful handprints leading him toward the library stairs. So, up he went. Simple enough to make a play of casually browsing the shelves, all the while on the lookout for an ink-stained elf girl.

[arsebiscuit]

The local tranquil wasn't any help. Not one of her duties, blah blah. And she was took creepy to talk to for long, so Sera didn't press it. Instead she flopped down into a chair to frown at her hands for a moment. Maybe she could rub it in the curtains?

I am the latest plz forgive

[seesobserves]

Ah — there was the thief. With his jar of bees in her belt, no less.

So, she had light fingers when no one was looking. Sherlock wondered if she'd be as good face-to-face. Wait for an opportunity to try and nick the grenade back from her, see if she noticed — better yet, see if she went for his pockets in turn.

He waited until she stood again, whether to go for the curtains or not. Then he moved in, holding a book open in front of him with one hand. Thus 'distracted' by his reading, he attempted a simple knock-and-grab: 'accidentally' bump into the target and lift the loot.

"Maker's— sorry," he muttered sheepishly, while his free hand went for the grenade.

no . and i'm sorry.

[arsebiscuit]

She is that good. Life on the streets, life as a Jenny, boredom in Skyhold. It'd take a...well Cole for her not to notice. Creepy boy he was. But if he's looking for a cunning came of back and forth, he's picked the wrong elf. Sera feels her pockets go light, the man too fast for her to stop. Rather than trying to steal it back, she lets her mouth run without her brain interfering, crying out the first thing that comes to her tongue.

"My underthings!"

rude.

[seesobserves]

The exclamation caught the attention of a few nearby browsers, who paused to turn and watch what was going on. For his part, Sherlock's hand was already off her, returning the bees to his own pocket. He snapped shut the book in his other hand, tucked it under his arm.

The character of the apologetic bumbler was dropped entirely. If she was going to make this loud and public, he'd get right to the point.

"Rashvine oil," he said, nodding down at her hands.