faderift | Got no credit and I got no fear

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Got no credit and I got no fear

WHO: Sera ~~Mai Bhalsych of Korse~~ and OPEN
WHAT: Sera comes back to Skyhold
WHEN: Last few weeks of Drakonis
WHERE: All over Skyhold
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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.

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"I like the world being in one piece as I happen to live here. No one else seems to be doing anything to prevent it's destruction. Why not come?" To hide from Crows, to mind Leliana, to make a dead woman proud-

No, just to keep the world intact.

"Well, sure. That's right," it was hard to argue with that, considering it was her own reasoning as well. No point doing anything if the room was going to be gone soon. "But...keep breaking itself, don't it? Gonna be limping along behind the banners when you're all wrinkled and smelly?"

"That is assuming I live long enough to become wrinkled and smelly." Death happens, or so they say. It happens more often when he is about- and when the world is ending? It happens a lot. He's due his turn at the end of that knife. "Depending on how this goes and should I live to see the end of it? I hope to retire to a villa in Rivain."

"Don't have any Jenny's up there just now. If you'd be needing some hobbies when the world's done falling to bits."

Elf with money would always get a bit of a look. So no concerns that he'd find anyone that had something coming fast enough.

"If what I remember what you and your friends do correctly, I think I can keep an eye out." A network of little people punching up against those that punch down. He can help. "It'd be boring if I did not stir a little trouble, after all."

"No point in sticking around without it. Might be what's wrong with all those noble types. Too much time sitting on their arses, have to come up with new stupid shit to hurt people with to pass the time."

Even if the Inquisition went tits up, at least she was making Friends.

"If it were deliberately malicious I would believe that- the worst of it is when they do the hurting but don't care that it happens as a side effect of them attempting another move in their Grand Game or personal politics. The ones that actually consider ways to hurt people seem the most kind on the surface." And are the worst under that painted skin.

"Assholes."

Definitive statement. He was right, though. More often than not it was just the uppers not thinking how their this and that dripped down to the real people below. Which was unforgivable. Meant they didn't even see people as people, just objects owned like the stones in their castles.

"But ain't so bad here, is it. All types. Hate each other, sure. But that's people for you, innit. Still doing something good."

"You would be surprised what can be done with a group that does not entirely agree with one another. During the fifth blight- well. There were many disagreements among the Warden and his merry band of misfits. Several over whether or not i ought to be allowed to join them I know of for certain." He shrugs. "But it can still work. Occasionally having so many points of view can offer perspectives that are valuable. And...sometimes it only ends in shouting and no work done."

"Oh- huh. I thought everyone with the hero died. Or he died. Or was it a she?"

Shrug. Sorry, Zev. Zero respect for ~~ancient~~ history here.

"Plenty of death went around back then. Hard to keep up with it all when you've wee enough you hardly had your numbers straight."

Edited 2016-04-11 23:44 (UTC)

"Normally that is the case. The Hero always dies. or...the amusing sidekick. That is how the stories go. But no, somehow we all miraculously survived." Through sheer luck if nothing else. "He. Jonas Cousland, now King of Ferelden. Well...missing king. I have no idea where he has wandered off to and it's been some time since he's responded to my letters."

The liklihood of the man doing something foolish and dying is-

Well it is par the course, truly.

"Ugh, do not say that. You will make me feel old."

"Can't help facts. But you've still got some looks 'bout you. If you're into that kinda thing. Still. Sounds right enough, him living. Just whole nation got too sad after. No point punching up when the nobles' houses are just as on fire as the rest of us. Time for me to go. Figures he run off too, though. Heroes, yeah?"

There for the glory, gone for when the bill came due.

"I am one of the prettiest members of the inquisition." Bull said so. And Harding- after a fashion. She might not have said as much but he knew that look.

Or thought he did.

Harding is a hard (ha) nut to crack.

"They are there when you need them, but rarely when you want them, yes."

"Haha, ohh, pretty. Right. I see how it is."

And thus Zev got his nickname. Or Sera's version of it.

"Easier when they die, yeah? Not like the Herald's fault it all went to shit. But saving the place then fucking off? Friend of yours, was he?"

"If you liked men you would understand." He mutters into his brandy. Of course he's pretty. Terribly pretty.

Isn't he? He is.

"She tried, that is all that can truly be said of her. That she tried- and she did close the breach." Even if haven cost the Herald her life. "Jonas is...yes. I suppose he is a friend. As much as a human noble can be a friend to an elven assassin. We write, we joke. He gave me a chance at being more than I was."

"Mm."

It's the very last bit that has her interest.

"And what were you, than, pretty?"

"An Antivan Crow." Which means much or little depending upon one's familiarity with the organization at the time. Less dangerous now for how he's been hamstringing them over the years but- ten years ago? A vicious player in Antivan politics. "You take a contract, you fill the contract, you take your cut and wait for the next job. It was a comfortable life- but a gilded cage is still a cage, yes?"

"Not a happy birdie, if you ended up with the dog lord lot."

The Ferelden Jenny's played rough, that was no secret. Closer to their assassin roots than most other branches. But they were no crows. Recruiting the poor to help was their thing, not shaping kids into killers.

"So. If you wanted out, were you a real one?"

"None of them are truly happy- they simply know nothing else- or are too aware of the consequences for attempting to fly off on their own." Less clipped wings and more death. Loyalty to the Crows- he'd felt it for years. It was what he was, who he was, until he learned that perhaps he could feel more. Be more.

Then it had been cut away and he wished to feel nothing.

"I was an excellent Crow, to be certain. One of the best of House Arainai. I could be a terrible shit about it as well- that was my undoing. Among other political maneuvers I was not aware of at the time. But I was as real of a Crow one could be until I was spared."

"Real's a shit word, ain't it?"

Sera, as always, skims the reply and picks out the words she wants.

"Not real elves, are we? Boots and city lives and all. But humans think we're as elfy as the inky tits. So. Real elves. Suppose that's how I ended up leaving Denerim. Got sick of so many knowing what I really was, when I didn't want none of it. Blegh."

She makes a face, then waves over for another round.

"Blah, blah, life's shit all around, right? Nothing but what we are now that matters."

"Being an elf is why the Crows chose me, I suppose. Humans find us attractive." And it is easy to sneak about when you look like one of many servants in the household. "But aside from that? I consider myself Antivan first. I cannot think of a City elf that has had a similar life to mine aside from, perhaps, their being a Crow as well."

Though if they weren't one of his and they were a Crow? They were probably dead. Or. About to be dead.

"At least you do not have this-" He taps the tattoo on his cheek. "Any human sees an elf with a tattoo and thinks 'Dalish'. Some Dalish see the tattoo and think 'weird northern Dalish'. I have had several attempt to count me as one of 'The People' or a 'Proper Elven Hero' I am an elf. I failed to die during the blight. I am not their hero."

He is no one's hero.

"True enough."

"Not your pick, huh?"

She could respect that. Life was shit. Things happen, a lot of them not what you wanted, out in the city. Any city. But a city elf not wanting face ink- or having it for reasons past themselves- would be easier to swallow than some non-dalish trying to chase after being a 'real' elf. That such a 'real' could exist made her sick.

"Fair enough."

"The Crows like to mark their property." That was what he had been. But now? Life is...better. He is free. He makes his own choices, does what he likes with his body. "So. If you are not of an alienage and dislike 'elfy' stuff as much as I- is there a story there? Or should we get another round and oogle the seving girls as they walk by?"

"Oh, not much. Left at a Chantry door with half a locket 'round my neck. Y'know how orphan life goes."

She is trying to keep a straight face with that story. Trying...and making it a whole two second before the smile starts to break through again.

"With a portrait of your mother hidden inside?" He manages to hold a somber expression for a moment longer before crackling into laughter.

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