II. SEMI-CLOSED.

[letterandspirit]

WHO: Marcus Kane, and other people with less beard.
WHAT: A variety of interactions.
WHEN: Late-Drakonis, first half of Cloudreach.
WHERE: Skyhold and surrounding areas.
NOTES: This is a semi-closed log, in that it will contain specific starters, but only semi- because please feel free to contact me if you'd like to do something and we can set it up.

Comments

around the stables. maria hill.

[letterandspirit]

[ Of the rapport that Marcus may wish to prioritise building within Skyhold, the stables and those that tend to them as well as those creatures that populate them should likely be lower on the list than it is. But his horse remains his daily duty, and so he might also bring scraps of bacon for the dogs, or assist in sweeping the floors clean of hay, or tend to the other mares and geldings if only because they are a lot less work to spend time with than people.

It's early morning when Marcus makes it back to the stables, having taken his mountain steed out into the pre-dawn for exercise, returning before breakfast. He is dressed much like a civilian, having never arrived in Templar armor in the first place, with his identity confirmed as written proof on tatty parchment, carefully preserved.

This early, the grounds are almost quiet, and cleanly cold. He leads his horse across the courtyard with gentle urgings of his boots in their stirrups and hands on reins. Upon spying Maria, he pauses, and chooses to dismount in the open rather than waiting to duck into the stables. ]

[nofury]

[ Maria did, from time to time, come to visit the monster they'd take from the swamps. A unicorn, it'd been nicknamed. A living horror, more like. But like so many things she would have once labeled as an unholy demon and slew, Maria was developing a small fascination for that which pushed her boundaries of understanding. So she'd taken it some damn food and then, to wash it all from her hair and soul, gone out to watch some more holy creatures canter around.

She nodded at the man approaching the stables. ]

Hail.

[letterandspirit]

[ Marcus approaches, lead in hand. The mountain horse at his shoulder sedately follows along, shaggy maned and legged, just out of place enough amongst the sleek, well-bred herd requisitioned from the Hinterlands. But not as out of place as the aforementioned monstrosity that Marcus spies past Maria's shoulder, the bog unicorn apparently content with the situation in which it finds itself, eating and snorting.

His brow crinkles. ]

I imagine an undead mount doesn't tire as easily, [ he says. Small talk, for the moment, and he hasn't indulged in small talk in a while. The Avvar he met tend to be more economic when conversing with flatlanders, especially those of a Templar origin. ] I'm not sure I'm ready to trade in the living on the basis alone. Is it yours?