(open-ish) out of the slumbers of my head

[fightingale]

WHO: Leliana & open-ish - see notes
WHAT: FREEDOM. talks about freedom/the Chantry/wherever it takes us.
WHEN: throughout late-late-late Drakonis and early/mid Cloudreach, can be after hearing some rumours.
WHERE: Default setting will be the Rookery, others possible on request.
NOTES:
1. Likely referral to imprisonment and torture in narrative, others to be added if they come up.
2. It's not exactly open-open because I'd like to be able to keep the different threads unique and avoid burn out on the topic, but if you are interested then just shoot me a pm or talk to me on plurk and we can figure it out!
tldr I am flexible with who/when/where and such, but hammering out some info first would be greatly appreciated.
3. Prose or brackets are totally fine, I'll match style :]b

Too long has she stayed her hand. First it was her ignorance that silenced her, and then it was loyalty, the belief that Justinia wished to make the world better, stronger. A more just world, where all would benefit rather than a rare few. As time has passed, though, and as the Inquisition grows, Leliana has realised more and more that Justinia's peace and her vision for the Chantry were not enough. For all that Justinia had once been a worldly woman she had not fought in the Blight, had not fought side by side with mage and elf alike. She had moved as a player of the Grand Game must, small moves, small changes, and stability had always been her first thought. It was Justinia who had threatened to deny aid to Celene in the settling of mage and Templar if Celene did not cease the elf rebellion simmering in Orlais before the burning of Halamshiral. Justinia was a good woman, a good friend and teacher and mother, and she had great vision. Even so she had been blinkered by the prejudices that ran rife throughout Thedas, the small mindedness that seemed to define each country in different ways. No one should be enslaved or punished simply for being; no one's personhood should be compromised by the simple facts and circumstances of their birth.

Most often she is in the Rookery and must be sort out between scouts and ravens bringing reports, or meetings with the other Advisors. The tower is cold, and candles flicker from a shrine to Andraste and make shadows dance. (And, if visitors come late in Drakonis and early in Cloudreach, they may find evidence of Dorian's prank, for which there will be dire consequences.)

Comments

FOR VELANNA. ( late drakonis, post-cyril & advisor talks. )

[fightingale]

Unsurprisingly, Leliana is speaking with a couple of scouts in hushed tones. Both nod, on hands over a report and a small parcel, then waits for Leliana's response. She simply nods, and murmurs something that makes the scout - an elf - stand a little straighter, head held high before Leliana hands her an envelope that she immediately tucks into a pouch on her belt before moving to the stairway. The other scout waits, receives a second envelope, and glances upward with quiet confusion before seeming to dismiss whatever his concerns might have been and moving for the stairwell.

Watching them both go draws Leliana's attention to another figure ascending the stairway, even as she crosses to her desk, gaze narrowing a little as a Grey Warden enters her Rookery.

"Did you need something?"

[failedfirst]

Velanna typically is quite content to sit and quietly stew and let the humans run themselves into the ground. She's done her good deeds here and there, but they largely outweigh the general exhaustion she feels when looking at the injustices surrounding her.

After the foolishness about the "elven" rifter and one of the Dalish being imprisoned got out, however, and everything the Wardens have dealt with concerning Anders, Velanna finds herself climbing the stairs to Leliana's rookery, when usually she'd have stopped in the library. She notes the scouts leaving the advisor's presence with a neutral expression, before continuing on, until she's standing before Leliana.

"Jonas used to speak of you," she began, pursing her lips for a moment and crossing her arms. "The picture he painted differs greatly from the one that has been leading an organization that seems to be Void-bent on wrapping itself in old prejudices while claiming otherwise."

[fightingale]

Ah, joy upon joys. A Warden, and a self-righteous one at that. Leliana sets her papers on the desk.

"Speak plainly. I have little time and less inclination to talk around issues," Leliana replies, a little sharply. Whether this involves Anders or another matter she does not know, but the appreciation for the Wardens is at something of an all time low, on a personal level. Professionally is a different matter, but Leliana has always been a little petty, has always held onto things.

"There are myriad prejudices that need to be addressed. If you expect me to guess at which particular one vexes you we may be here until the next Age."

early cloudreach

[serannas]

Ellana knows the spymaster must be bogged down with work, but after hearing rumors of Leliana's views, she decides to come see for herself. Rumors are just that, and she wants to hear Leliana's opinions from her own lips, not filtered through several people who heard it from a friend of a friend.

She comes up the stairs to the rookery, and when she spots Leliana she appears to be at liberty, so Ellana approaches, footsteps light despite the boots she wears. She has no illusions about coming up on a master spy unheard.

"Sister Leliana, may I speak with you?"

[fightingale]

The steps approaching her are not familiar ones. There are so many in Skyhold it would be a considerable endeavour to hear each often enough to recognise them all. What matters is this is the not a scout, nor one with whom she has spent considerable time, and she looks over her shoulder with curiosity and faint exasperation because she is working - although neither of those emotions quite make it to her face, whose expression remains carefully schooled.

At least the young woman has good timing.

"You may," she starts, turning to face her more fully, arms crossed against her chest. "What is the problem?"

Usually when people come to speak to her it relates to them being angry about something or because there is urgent news the Inquisition must see to.

[serannas]

The question is one that intrigues Ellana, because it's different than her own reaction would be to someone asking if they could speak with her, at least if they weren't running towards her panicked, or anything like that.

"Do people only come to you with your problems?" she asks, adding, "Or are you saying if there isn't a problem, you don't have time to talk? I only wished to discuss something I'd heard with you, but I don't want to take up your time if you're busy."

[justice_is_blond]

He's been hesitant to approach. So far his opinion of her is nothing like what he's heard from stories from Jonas or from others who called her friend, and Anders never appreciates having a knife at his throat. On the other hand, he's been hearing a lot of rumors that she's starting to speak out about equality and freedom. As he would like a reason to have a little bit of hope for the future of mages when it comes to the Inquisition, Anders finally decides to talk with her.

Once up the staircase, he leans against the railing several feet away, waiting for when she's done with the current scout talking with her. Only after he's leaned does he realize there's glitter everywhere, and now he's wearing it. He frowns as he looks at his hands... and then shrugs. He'll just have to hug Nate later and get it on the archer, and the thought means that he's prepared for however this conversation goes.

Once the scout is gone, Anders stops looking at the fine layer of glitter over everything and raises an eyebrow at Leliana.

"Celebrating?"

in my sleep haze i misread "hug nate" as "nug hate" and was just like ANDERS PLS

[fightingale]

His voice is distinct, though once as hyper aware as Leliana did not need to hear it to identify him - not when he made no moves to conceal himself, and especially not when there is enough light filtering into from the tower roof that it catches on anything or anyone who has been tarnished by the damnable glitter. It is unfortunate that her general feelings surrounding Anders tie into frustration and anger and betrayal (not all his fault, though he has become a symbol for all manner of things as a result), otherwise she might have cracked a joke.

Or she might not. The appearance of Leliana's humour has become less and less in past weeks, and it was rare enough already.

"Not yet," she replies, rather clipped, and perhaps that is a glint of humour baring its teeth despite herself, even if it isn't terribly obvious or direct. She will celebrate once Dorian's destruction is complete, and she already has a plan forming in the back of her mind.

"What do you need?" Both her default response, these days, and an observation on the reality that he probably wouldn't be here without a very good reason.

LOL. Yes. Glittery nugs are made to be hated.

[justice_is_blond]

Not yet. There's an inside joke there, he's pretty sure, but he doesn't have the familiarity with her or the situation to make a guess of it. It's put to the side because her question is far more interesting.

"What do I need?" At this point, one might say that technically all of his needs are met. He has shelter, food, people who give a care about him, and a way to keep Justice feeling fulfilled and content. It's a good thing he's not here for himself alone.

"That's not quite accurate, but it's close. The mages have a council, and that's a good start. But until mages are generally seen as people and not objects, they won't have much of a voice." It's something they have no control over. Only by being around people, free, out there, will they have a chance, and only also if they have someone who isn't a mage who can vouch for them because a lot of non-mages are horrible idiots.

"They do not need further oversight, but they could use an assisting voice. Legitimacy. Rumor has it you might be seeking to be that on their behalf and on the behalf of the elves. I came to find out if it was true."

FOR MERRILL.

[fightingale]

Poor Baroness de Plumes is having something of a day, perched obediently on Leliana's arm as the Spymaster brushes over her feather. Despite Dorian's act of war at the end of Drakonis, it seemed the poor dear was still struggling with unusual amount of sparkle. She suspected this was, in fact, the Baroness deciding that she rather enjoyed the glamour and attention that it brought her, but Leliana is more concerned with one of her fastest birds being able to fly undetected in a particularly dangerous area for her scouts. It might only be a subtle sparkle, but there were eyes other than her own trained to watch for the slightest matter of interest, and a glittering raven might raise some curiosity.

Leliana is speaking to the bird in Orlesian, quietly soothing and offering a gentle rebuke when she goes to hop away, and someone across the other side of the Rookery is trying to sweep and clean the lingering glitter dust away as efficiently and quickly as possible. Baroness de Plumes peers at Merrill before Leliana does, opening her beak in a silent human, look! before cawing when Leliana does not look fast enough.

"I know, Baroness," she murmurs quietly, gaze flickering towards Merrill and dropping as she continues to brush the glitter away. "Merrill will not be brushed, however, because she did not choose to roll in glitter before an important mission."

Another caw, and Leliana gently sets a finger on her beak. "Don't take that tone with me. Now, keep still."

[chainlightning]

If Merrill thought she could get away with it -- and if she could reliably get around Skyhold, and if she wasn't certain whether or not she would be distracting the birds too much -- then she would likely spend a lot more time in the rookery. As it is, she giggles in delight when Baroness de Plumes notices her, wiggling her fingers -- a ring on her fingers, which may attract attention -- before turning it into a bolder wave for Leliana.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind being brushed," she giggles again, stepping closer with her hands open so that the Baroness can see she isn't holding anything scary. "Or being glittery, I suppose, on certain occasions. May I-?"

Pet the bird, that is. In fact- "I could brush her, or if there's another bird who could use some attention...?"

[fightingale]

Merrill is a strange woman, she thinks. In her experience, however, the strange sorts are usually the best of them. The people who fit in with the crowds and the norm usually did not excel at thinking beyond it.

"The Baron and Baroness can be a little temperamental," she starts, musing on it. Temperamental tended to mean that Baron Plucky and Baroness de Plume were horrifying monstrosities when anyone but Leliana tries to deal with them, though she would never admit it, and rarely even acknowledges it to herself. The Baroness closes her eyes, content as Leliana continues to brush her, and Leliana instead whistles for another bird.

The raven, a little more slender than the Baroness and extremely curious, opts to land on Merrill's shoulder rather than on the table. "Merrill, this is Marian Squawke. Squawke, this is Merrill." And the raven caws, true to her name, before starting to hop down Merrill's arm to better look at her.

"She's not rolled in glitter, but she does rather enjoy being petted."

Probably late Drakonis

[bookish_lioness]

The soiree had been Hermione's first real exposure to Thedosians outside of the Inquisition, and it had been something of an eye-opener. And not a pleasant one, at that. Nobles kept approaching her as though expecting her to lash out, or worse, as though expecting her to do a trick. If she hadn't been escorted out of there by Mal less than halfway through the night, she just might have lashed out as they'd half-expected, and that wouldn't have ended well for her at all.

The days after had mostly been spent speaking to her friends who were natives of this world, trying to figure out if that sort of behavior was the norm or if only the nobility was privy to those sorts of prejudices. The answers she'd gotten hadn't been promising, and so she eventually decided to turn to someone else who had offered to give her answers whenever she might need them.

She's not even entirely up the spiral staircase leading to the rookery before she catches sight of something sparkly on the floor that grows more and more pronounced the closer she gets. By the time she's at the top of the stairs, she can't help staring at the fine dusting of glitter everywhere, to the point where she assumes that this is how the rookery always is.

When she does spot Leliana, she tilts her head a bit curiously, lightly kicking up a small spray of glitter up from the floor after approaching her. "I'm surprised this hasn't infiltrated the library. I don't remember the owlery at home being like this."

[fightingale]

At the sound of the familiar voice Leliana looks up, and offers Hermione a not-quite-smile. She never really smiles, these days, but there is a slight flicker at the corner of her mouth and a wryness that quirks her lips a little, even if it disappears fast. "I would hope not," she replies, sighing a little at the glitter. "The next level of an ongoing vendetta, I'm afraid. I will have to bide my time to think of adequate retribution."

Retribution that will come after the Inquisition, that goes without saying, but Dorian will have his comeuppance.

"How are you settling in? It has been a little while since we've spoken," and there is the edges of something apologetic in that. Her work comes first. It must always come first, but that does not mean she is happy to leave people lacking in assistance or support, in a friendly ear.

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione hardy thinks of glitter as being part of a vendetta, but then she realizes that it's a bit of over-exaggeration. "You mean someone played a prank on you?" she asks, trying not to smile. "I could help you clean it up, but I don't know that even magic can properly get rid of glitter. It's stubborn that way."

And speaking of stubborn, she can be a bit hard-headed herself, which is probably why she's allowing everything that's been said and done at the soiree to have any effect on her whatsoever. "It has been," she murmurs softly. "I've been... all right, I suppose. There are still some things I'm trying to get used to."

As though it has nothing to do with anything else, she asks, "Were you at that party a while back? There were more people there than I've seen together in one place in a long time."

Early Cloudreach

[easternseaqueen]

Isabela still comes by the rookery on a regular basis to deal with her assorted correspondence.

"Interesting change of pace," she remarks, rubbing some glitter off her fingers, "Do you ever sprinkle it on the heads below you?"

The pirate collects her incoming messages, frowning at one of them, and then selects a few ravens to send the outgoing ones.

"So, rumor has it you're wanting to talk about freedom." It wasn't a question. More an observation, really. And an invitation if Leliana wanted to take it.

[fightingale]

Leliana, for her part, does not look up from the paperwork. The glitter no longer irritates her; now it is simply a slow burning fuel for her desire to destroy Dorian utterly with the next escalation of their shared vendetta. Lovingly and respectful destruction, playfully meant, and yet utterly brutal. Theirs is a strange friendship, one could suppose.

"Only when the scouts are in need of entertainment," she says, and it's seriousness enough that she might just be being honest. Or perhaps she is just a very good liar. Speaking of good liars: hi, Isabela, she is still not happy with you. Pragmatism over personal grievances was a rallying point she liked to recommend, but was a rather more difficult ideal to latch onto for herself.

"It is not the talking about it that interests me. Words can mean very little, Isabela. It is action that counts."

[easternseaqueen]

"So... A couple times a day, then? I'll have to keep an eye out for that." She laughs a little.

She crosses her arms expectantly.
"So how much of a plan have you put together? I take it strongly-worded letters aren't on the agenda."

mid-late Cloudreach

[eolasemah]

It has taken Sina a while to visit Leliana, despite all she's heard. It's some time after the soiree when she finally feels strong enough to make the effort without assistance, slowly ascending the many flights of stairs to the rookery with a break on each floor. Strange how similar it feels to when she and Nari climbed the mountains to Skyhold; in a similar fashion, she knows that if she can just make it to the summit, there is a chance something will change for the better.
She is visibly exhausted when she arrives at the top of the stairs, but holds her head high, her expression dignified, the telltale brilliant green of the shard blazing through the fabric of her chemise.
"Sister Leliana," she greets, keeping her voice level and assertive, as Vivienne coached her before the party. Even if this human is ostensibly on their side, she cannot show weakness.

[fightingale]

She does, of course, remember Sina from their brief meeting in the gardens all those weeks ago. Equally well does she remember the revelation that it was Sina who had opened a rift in Skyhold, when she and Cassandra had been walking through the snow in the Emprise and worrying over the Inquisition's future. To think that those were the times that she might miss, that those times felt a little simpler. Perhaps it had been foolish, to force a division between Left and Right hand - but it was done, and Leliana remains sure it was for the best, no matter what pain it causes her.

"Sina." She heard her coming before she arrived, and her desk is cleared as Leliana indicates the space for her to sit, if she wants (if she needs.) "How can I help you?"

[eolasemah]

Though proud, Sina is still frail, and she nods her thanks as she moves to sit in the chair, trying not to exhale too loudly with relief. But when Leliana prompts her onward, she sees no need to beat around the bush.
"I am First of Clan Dahlasanor, and our representative in Skyhold," she begins, "and my clan has much distrust of humans. We were nearly exterminated, twenty years ago." She clasps her hands in front of her, betraying the insecurity she feels at confronting such an important member of the Inquisition. "...since arriving here, I have learned that some of our fears were misguided. Perhaps overwrought. Nahariel and I were not killed on sight. But I have also learned that some of our fears remain as valid as ever. Two of our own have been imprisoned without trial, for causes of which I am still not certain. Several of our own have been attacked within the walls of the Keep, with their assailants walking free."
She clears her throat uncomfortably.
"...but I hear you have spoken out in our favor. ...in my favor, in many ways, but I come to you about the Dalish." After fidgeting for a second or two, Sina catches herself and looks up again, meeting Leliana's gaze. "As liaison to my clan, I need to hear from you directly that we will not come to any harm from the Inquisition. I do not speak for Clan Ashara or the remaining outclan Dalish individuals, but Clan Dahlasanor cannot pledge loyalty to an organization that does not protect us from the real dangers we face in integrating with so many humans."

Finished, she sighs again, closing her eyes for a moment. There was nothing about the speech that needed rehearsing, as it was all quite sincere; however, the unspoken fact is that if she leaves Skyhold, she will almost certainly die. The shard in her chest will make sure of that, sooner or later, if left alone.

early cloudreach; post-eluvian

[arcaneadvisor]

Something almost like relief, or as close to that as Morrigan gets, enters her once the eluvian is locked away in Skyhold behind a sturdy door and magic. And then she seemingly disappears again but no one can blame her for wanting to spend days with just Kieran, catching up on all he's been up to in her absence as well as the progress of his lessons, time outside Skyhold just for the two of them that he's so badly missed. She has duties here, work too, and so seeking Leliana out takes longer than she might like but find her she does, stalking with her usual leonine grace.

She is careful not to touch anything, drawing her elbows tight, her fingers curled in, the smirk souring at what she spies because she has no wish to traipse this back to her quarters with her. Not when she has such old things. Not when she has a small boy.

"Leliana, perhaps we might speak elsewhere?" A gentle suggestion; after all, Morrigan is the one who departed for her own work, borrowing Leliana's scouts in the process and she knows a few were wounded though she's been informed by a runner that all are well on the mend now. Still, there is a rather alarming amount of glitter, enough to make even a harlot put her foot down. "If I am not disturbing you, I now realise I may have missed a few things in my absence."

[fightingale]

She is in the midst of writing a letter, and has requested that one of the scouts attaches another to Baron Plucky, perhaps their bravest and most persistent bird. The scout's face had paled, and Leliana had looked at him with incredulity before he moved away to grab the raven. This is the background to Morrigan's arrival, a scout struggling to take hold of a raven, and then visibly wilting under the look the Nightingale gives him and she whistles and the raven wrestles out of the scout's hold to land lightly on her shoulder, tucking its head under her chin.

"A moment, Morrigan," she replies, not yet sparing a glance to her, when she is instead looking at her scout with reproach as he hands back the message he had been supposed to attach to Plucky's leg. What the scout had struggled with for agonising minutes Leliana manages to complete in a matter of seconds, and she gently rubs between the raven's eyes and murmurs something to it before setting him loose to hop to the window and carry off the message.

Finally she looks back to Morrigan. It is good to see her well - unharmed and unhindered, based on her movements, though the distaste for the glitter is hard to miss. "Only someone sealing his own agonising fate," Leliana replies, rather dryly. A glance at the scouts, continuing their work, and back to Morrigan. "Come, this way."

Her private chambers, not far from the Rookery, more private than the ramparts, which she imagines is a necessity if this pertains to the eluvian. Leliana leads the way, moving towards the staircase.

Post-Gavin Arrest, After Obi-Wan Stirring

[dreadinquisitor]

He'd wanted to march in that night, but even as he was starting up into the hall he knew it was a fool's errand. Even if he knew what he wanted to say - or, more appropriately, how to say it - getting the advisers to meet with him at that time of night was unlikely at best. Even when they weren't dealing with attempted subterfuge.

So he'd stepped back. He'd shared what he did know with Gavin's other friends and family, and he'd gathered himself.

He decided not, however much he desired to, to go to Cassandra first. Her dismissal of the concerns brought before her, her part in the whole mess, stung, and if there was one thing that was certainly true in all this, it was that fighting with the Seeker got no one anywhere. Considering the other advisers, he recalled some things he'd heard about the Inquisition's spymaster. Her unexpected stances.

So that's where he went first.

Up, up, further up the tower than he'd ever had cause to go before - and starting lightly, and chuckling despite himself, when the crows noisily announced his arrival.

[fightingale]

She is vaguely familiar with him, as much as she is able to be familiar with those she has never dealt with personally in an organisation so large as theirs was growing. The sound of the chuckle grabs her interest, and Leliana pauses in what she is doing, Baron Plucky perched on her shoulder and tucking his head under her chin as she walks with a letter she just retrieved from his leg. "Good boy," she tells the bird softly, before looking towards Maxwell.

Noble, she reminds her, running through something of a mental checklist. Artificer, her mind supplies. Clever. Often seen reading. Leliana narrows her gaze and looks to him, curious. "Did you need to send a raven?"

She doubts he needs to send a raven.