faderift | We come from the land of the ice and snow

We come from the land of the ice and snow

WHO: Open to all
WHAT: Thedas' strange new guests are delivered to Skyhold
WHEN: 25 Harvestmere (October)
WHERE: Skyhold main gate & courtyard
NOTES: This is Part I of a two-part intro event, Part II will be posted tomorrow.

A long uphill tromp through the snowy mountains ends at Skyhold, the distant fortress finally before them in all its tumble-down glory. There is time to admire the drop into the river gorge far below as they cross the only bridge into the castle; it is briefly backed up with traffic, several carts bearing supplies and visitors stalled as the portcullis is raised. Those coming to help catalog and unload the shipment and greet the guests, or otherwise present near the front courtyard, will find themselves witness to a far more interesting arrival.

Guards at the gate carry the word quickly, and more gather, though they make no move to imprison the strange people who fell out of a rift. They just line the perimeter and keep a close watch. Perhaps this adds a level of tension to this first encounter, but it also reassures the many who are unsettled by the uncertain turn of events and keeps in check those who might attack first and ask questions later. Others will no doubt soften the Inquisition's first impression, offering food, information, and other assistance.

Medical attention is available in the tented-encircled corner of the courtyard where the wounded from Haven are still treated. The quartermaster's assistant is called upon to provide spare odds and ends of clothing to those in need, and to issue blankets for all, though they are left to fend for themselves to find places to sleep.

Any mage willing to help is called in to do so and a cluster forms in one side of the courtyard to examine the rifters. They are objects of curiosity in general, but the marks on their hands are of particular interest, resembling smaller slivers of the Herald's famous mark. Despite their best efforts, no mage will be able to provide any real insight after this initial assessment. What the rifters and their marks are is a question they cannot answer today.

But one question is answered: in the midst of all the commotion, another Inquisition agent arrives from Haven, rushing in red-faced to announce that the Herald's body has finally been found.

OOC

It will be decided (partly for OOC reasons, admittedly) that the rifters will not be imprisoned at this point, but they will be watched carefully, and the guards are on alert for any strange behavior by people with glowing hands or strange attire. And of course, their freedom can be revoked at any time if they're deemed a danger. Though there are some OOC considerations at play here, you're welcome to ICly lobby for more or less freedom for the rifters, and things may change based on IC action/consensus.

Also: Part II, aka the log for the funeral/wake/etc. event, will go up tomorrow!

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"Ah, the self flagellation of a devoted healer." He crackles a soft laugh, resting his chin in his hand as he watches the internal debate all but raging in Simon's eyes. To drink or not to drink, that is the question. He has half a mind to make a joke about it not being poisoned- but then it is Fereldan ale so who knows but it seems that the mind is made up without any further coaxing. To drink! Huzzah!

It of course offers him a rather dashing image of the man swallowing and my that's a lovely throat, and collar, and jaw. And...everything. Mmm.

"Zevran Arainai, at your most humble service." What said services might be, well. Who can say? Zevran. At length. In great, sordid detail- but that is for later. Now is for sipping his own ale with a crook of a grin and blatantly admiring Simon. "I do not think I have seen you in here all that often. The healing tents keep you busy, yes?"

"Mm, the Circle had required classes on it, as a matter of fact," Simon joked back with a small grin, turning the mug slightly as he set it back down on the table. Even though he grinned about it Simon didn't seem to actually mind the idea. That magic was meant to serve man, and all that, was something that Simon fully believed.

How closely Zevran was examining him didn't quite catch Simon's notice. The elf just seemed very friendly, and there was nothing wrong with that. At worst he probably just wanted to make nice with some of the people who might someday be mending his wounds, but Simon tried to think better of folk than that, especially if they were here with the Inquisition.

"Zevran, it's nice to meet you," he said, grin softening as he remembered his manners. "And yes, they do...among other things."

Simon took another drink rather than elaborate unprompted.

"There are more pleasing ways to punish yourself for taking time away, truly." Though if it was pleasing it likely wasn't punishment, but different strokes for different folks, yes? Yes. Some liked the struggle. Some liked the whipping.

Zevran personally enjoyed the sighing.

"Avoiding the templars?" He'd mentioned a circle and while there were a handful of Circle mages that he knew of that didn't mind the templars or the tower- most here would be happier without. Even with the arrangement the Inquisition had with both parties it made for...tense dinner conversation should a section of both be in the tavern at once.

That, Simon noticed. For a moment he didn't think he heard Zevran correctly, because how could punishment equate to being pleasurable? But then when he couldn't quite come up with an answer, it gave him a chance to think about it, brow furrowed and lips parted as if ready to voice his confusion. That was when he got it.

"Um," he added brilliantly to the conversation. Simon was not experienced in such matters, but his travels abroad had certainly introduced him to more than what he was familiar with back in Cumberland Circle. At least in a vague, 'sometimes wealthy nobles get very bored' sort of way. Thank the Maker Zevran was moving on.

"Oh, ah, sometimes," he said, ears still pink as he suddenly was very interested in the ale. "I'd rather not but it's sort of complicated..."

It took a moment but ah, the innuendo sunk in. And the flustered swallowing began in short order but there was no sputtering. Curious. The way Simon's ears went pink, though, that was quite charming. He would have to poke him a bit more to see if it spread.

"Is that not the way of such things? I cannot imagine how you are able to work with them simply wandering about as though they own this place. It must be terribly uncomfortable."

There might have been sputtering if that line of conversation had continued. Zevran was a very friendly sort, apparently, or at least very forward. More than Simon was by leaps and bounds...and he really didn't need to be thinking about Zevran enjoying any sort of punishment like the sorts he'd heard of.

"Now...I know that trick," he said, head tilting as he tried to put the thought out of mind with an embarrassed smile. Thinking about templars usually did the trick, like a cold bucket of water down his back. "There's one behind me now, isn't there? You're trying to get me in trouble..."

Simon leaned back in his chair but didn't go as far as to look back and make sure all was clear. All the same, his voice was slightly lower when he spoke again. This was something of a hot button issue for most of Skyhold.

"They're trained to be vigilant over us for a reason and both Kirkwall and the disbanding of the Circle have only made things worse," Simon said. "Now every mage is worthy of suspicion. I miss the days when the trust I have for templars was mutual...but I understand why that's changed."

"Oh, there is, but not right behind you. More several tables back and six tankards in. I do not think he'll be paying anything you say much mind." While that was a familiar enough trick it wasn't one he'd play with a mage or a templar unless there was coin to be had or a point to be made. Here? Neither was applicable. Only his curiosity bid him ask, he'd worked with, around, and on mages in his time but the world had never been quite so tumultuous as it was now. That changed the lines a bit, nudged them around in the sand.

Blurred boundaries.

"And while I may very well be attempting to get you into some kind of trouble, it won't be the templar sort. No Ser." The fun sort. The sexy sort. Not the templar sort.

Mmm. That was something to consider. If more mages were of a mind as Simon then tensions would be lower- but there were those from Fereldan or Orlais that had their own reasons for distrusting either group. What remained of the Marches or Fereldan templars- well. He knew their reasoning well enough. The rest? Not so much a mystery as the story tended to be the same in the past five years. "Until some manner of agreement is made I fear you and yours and the templars will be much like cats and dogs. Though with more fire and ice than claws and tooth."

At that Simon did look back, only to have to force down a snorting laugh at the sight of a man looking like he was going to pass out into his stew, a tankard clutched stubbornly in his hand. No worries of offending anyone there. Not that Simon considered what he said to be of any offense to a templar...a mage, on the other hand, might take more issue with his apparent complacency.

"I'm a bit afraid to ask what sort of trouble you did have in mind," Simon admitted, especially after that comment about punishments and no--no. Simon was not going to start thinking about that again. The mage cleared his throat and tried to shift focus back onto the much safer topic of mage templar relations.

Simon's opinion was absolutely biased. Cumberland was one of the better circles to be sent to and he did well in the environment. Other mages weren't so lucky, though Simon had yet to be properly exposed to them, more worried about River. Still, all the good behavior in the world didn't keep him from breaking the rules when he needed to. "Setting people on fire isn't what I want to do as a mage...hopefully the Inquisition will be able to prevent it from getting worse."

They'd already pulled off one miracle, after all.

"The fun, sexy kind of course!" Said with the air of one offering only the most obvious of answers. What other manner of trouble was worth having than the fun, sexy sort? There was trouble to be had, borrowed, bought, and stolen but the only one worth actively seeking out? Is the kind he wished to find with Simon. Preferably in a bed. Or against a wall, he wasn't terribly picky.

Still, there were other things to discuss, it was a rare thing for him to find a mage that did not mind the templars so much. Some Circles were well and truly balanced, some burned, some massacred. It varied from place to place but one that did not end quite so terribly? Seemed to be the exception rather than the rule. It only left Zevran all the more curious as to where Simon studied. "Then what is it you would wish to do with you magic- if not setting fools on fire?"

Poking a mage was foolish, templar or no. Being unprepared for a fireball made one all the more foolish.

And there were those thoughts again, Simon realizing all at once what that friendly smile and offer of a drink had really been all about. Simon sank slightly in his chair, suddenly having trouble keeping eye contact as his ears burned red. The few occasions where he had tried to flirt with people had shown him he was universally awful at it, and all of those experiences had been with young women back in the Circle. Zevran...he wasn't even sure he wanted to try flirting back, or if the elf was even being serious, so it was probably best to make inarticulate noises in the back of his throat until he figured out one or the other.

"That's, um, all right then," he managed. "All I...all I really wanted to do was help people. I'm a healer, primarily...I'd rather soothe a burn than inflict one."

Not that Simon couldn't do other things, the Circle Simon was part of encouraged mages to avoid specializing too much. But his frost spells were little more than acceptable, and what little else he knew was likely to get him killed if it ever came to light.

"What about you then, Zevran?" he asked, trying to continue skirting around the issue of flirting for as long as possible and probably going about it in the worst possible way. "You're not a mage--I'm assuming, at least. So what do you do, if not setting fires...?"

Aw, it was cute how shy and bashful he became once Zevran was more forthright. Humans were positively delightful when they were uncertain of themselves in such matters. There was a fragility to elves in a similar situation that he found more concerning than charming, remembering all too well his own history, but humans? Were fun to play with. Or full around with. They were fun and he enjoyed showing them the wonderful world of a good time.

Loosening them up a little.

"Me? Other than charm handsome mages in taverns and spin wild tales of my adventures?" He leaned a little closer, eyes flicking from Simon's to his lips for a moment and returning. His interest was plain- or at the very least the appearance of his interest was plain. "Keeping people entertained- helping them relax in such trying times, easing the burden of stress- and on occasion going out to stab bandits should they be troubling travelers."

"One of those things is more than a little incongruous," Simon murmured, managing to look back up at Zevran with a wry if a little bit disbelieving smile. He still didn't know if the elf was teasing or not, but he was certainly persistent. If nothing else Simon decided that so long as Zevran's flirting were only words it wasn't something he needed to worry about...or at least he could try not to worry.

"Still, commendable on all counts," he added with a touch more confidence. "The stabbing, maybe not as much, even if they're bandits...I suppose there comes a point where it must be done. You can't exactly soothe them out of a life of crime, can you?"

"Well I do try to talk them out of it but you know brigands. They do not always listen, alas." He shrugs, hooking an ankle around Simon's under the table. Gradually encroaching on his space was step two. Step one was the flirting- if he continued to blush so well he may very well manage step three before the conversation was over.

"I make certain the stabbing is quick and clean. There is no reason to cause undue suffering."

It had become a grim conversation to be had over a meal, but it actually felt less uncomfortable a topic than Zevran's flattery. For someone like Simon who had deliberately chosen to specialize in healing wounds and injuries, talk of bloodshed wasn't all that bad. Certainly better than the other kind of bloodshed that tended to come up around mages.

"As long as you do attempt talking them down first--"

And then there was a slender foot hooking around his, startling the mage to the point where he nearly banged his knee against the table.

"--sorry," he quickly covered. "Did I kick you? I'm so sorry..."

Well that was a reaction. Perhaps he did not care for men...or elves. Or perhaps he was shy? Zevran taps the toe of his boot against Simon's but does not attempt to hook it about a second time. Clearly that wasn't about to work. "Not at all, though I do apologize if I am making you uncomfortable."

He was being a bit more forward than usual. Perhaps it would be better to temper it- even if the sputtering and the blushing was hilarious.

"It isn't that you're--I'm, well, I'm flattered," Simon offered, doing his absolute best to be diplomatic. It was clearly not his strongest suit, the mage hesitating with every other word and his face now burning red with embarrassment. 'Uncomfortable' was a strong word in Simon's opinion, especially since he still wasn't really sure that Zevran was really serious... This was hardly the place for romantic intentions...at least what Simon thought romantic intentions to be.

Though that Zevran was at least a little bit interested was pretty clear...unless he just enjoyed watching him squirm. Simon opted to give the elf the benefit of the doubt.

"I am...I'm just not, not really in a good place for...what it is you're looking for," he finally finished, managing not to make the words a question. Especially difficult when he didn't even really know what Zevran was looking for.

"A night of fun? A casual flirtation? A romantic interlude with no strings attached and no true expectations? A pleasant diversion from the stress that seems to be your life? Illicit meetings in alcoves where we might exchange tender words and passionate kisses but precious little else? All of the above? None? An amusing friend with which to share wine and warmth and good humor? Whatever it is you might find most pleasing is what it is that I offer. Without reservation and without expectation." Perhaps now, speaking plain, the teasing ambiguity would be less vague and more transparent in it's true intent- to offer whatever it was that Simon would want to see.

He sat back enough to give Simon his space, smile friendly and hands open, palm up on the table in a gesture that was equal parts surrender and open offer. "I am under no illusions. The world as it is, the burden you bear as a mage and healer in these tumultuous times- I merely thought to offer something fun with which you might relieve your stress in any manner you find acceptable."

That was quite the array of offers, ranging from mild to salacious but mostly salacious, and of course the latter variety only served to make Simon's eyes widen and if it were possible for him to get any redder he certainly would be. He folded his hands together on the table, meal now completely forgotten...but the mug absolutely remembered, Simon taking a quick drink and even managing not to grimace at the taste. At least not too much.

Still, Zevran was offering so much and being so accommodating, it left Simon almost suspicious. Had he been sent by those men in Tevinter to find River? Simon didn't want to think so...but he still would have to be careful.

"That's very thoughtful," Simon finally answered, his smile no longer present, he looked slightly worried instead. He was searching Zevran's own smile now, trying to find anything he might be hiding. "I am not very good at flirting. Or casual...that. But company would be nice."

It was true. Zevran had probably already guessed how bad a flirt Simon was, and as for intimacy, 'casual' wasn't something the mage had ever been able to manage. It was possible, maybe, but Simon would need to relax first. And considering that was Zevran's supposed goal...they were going to be dancing around each other for some time.

"Still, is there anything you want? That is, you seem to be going out of your way to help...what can I do to repay you?"

"...do you often attempt to pay people for their company?" Because the shyness does imply a difficulty with flirting and honestly he was having a hard time seeing Simon bold enough to find a prostitute for the night were he in need. It wasn't anything Zevran had not done before but it wasn't something he looked to get into now, not even if it earned him a fine companion and a little coin.

He did not need to do such things any longer.

But...perhaps that was not what it was Simon intended to say?

"I--what?"

Simon coughed as he struggled not to swallow his tongue. The budding suspicion he felt was momentarily forgotten.

"I didn't mean...I wasn't talking about money," he said, fingers waving between them to dispel the misunderstanding. Not that there was anything wrong with people who did, or with people who took such payments, but that was absolutely not what Simon was getting at at all.

"This is why I do not care much for Common. It can be terribly imprecise at times." A misunderstanding brought on by language, this he could forgive. "Your company in return would be more than enough, Bello. I require little else."

Simon breathed again, head dipping for a moment as he smiled with rueful embarrassment. At least the misunderstanding had been smoothed over easily enough...part of Simon still wondered if he could take him at his word, but for once it was something he would let himself worry about later.

"Then, yes, company I think I can manage," he said with the unspoken implication that he's not always good at that either, as he'd just shown. "'Bello' wouldn't happen to a kind word for 'oaf', would it? I wouldn't blame you if it were..."

"Not at all." Zevran said, leaning forward once again, peering at Simon through his lashes. Voice low and warm he reached out again to rest his hand on top of Simon's- it was slow in coming, offering Simon plenty of time to move away should he so choose. "It means 'Handsome Man' in Antivan."

"Maker, you're relentless," Simon said with a smile and huff of breath. Still, he let the touch come. His hand only curling slightly under Zevran's before relaxing again, the fingers slowly daring to spread out and open on the table. Did he want this? Maybe...a friend would be nice. Even one who seemed to enjoy turning him red at every available opportunity. So, yes, he decided that this was worth trying.

"All right then, 'Bello'...you win," he said, tilting his head at Zevran.

"You have no idea." He curled his fingers around Simon's tugging his hand up enough to drop a kiss to his knuckles. A friendly kiss. A teasing one. The gesture was courtly and in most cases? Considered quite charming. How Simon would take it he could not quite say.

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