Well. Nevarra sucked. He's not entirely surprised with how things turned out, but it's still frustrating. At least they're back in Kirkwall now.

A. Not exactly a scholar

Oh yes, this is a rare sight. Carver Hawke, in the library. Reading. Well, attempting to anyway. The rather tall man is almost dwarfed by the stack of books around him; clearly he's been here for awhile, judging by the stacks and the empty plate next to him. His brow's creased in a perpetual frown as he pages through the book in front of him. Occasionally, he'll jot down something in a little piece of parchment next to him. But often he'll just cross it out later. Whatever he's trying to discern, it's not going well.

After awhile, he shoves the book away from him, blowing out a frustrated breath. Calloused hands run over his face, scrubbing at it. "I'm not cut out for this," he mutters.

B. Gotta keep in shape

Now this is much more his style. Despite the cold weather, Carver's still outside, practicing his sword form. He whet his blade plenty on the undead that swarmed them in the Grand Necropolis, but that doesn't mean he gets to slack off. And really, it's more something to just keep his mind occupied and feel somewhat productive. For now, he's practicing on one of the dummies set up... somewhere. Someone probably propped up a few somewhere, right? Right.

Of course, a real partner that can react and swing back would be ideal. But Carver's never been much of one to ask for a sparring partner; too used to doing it on his own and all. Still, he won't say no if someone offers. If he knows you, he'll wave in greeting. If not, he'll either likely ignore you or just nod. Or if you're REALLY lucky and he likes you, you might just get a smile.

Or just don't let him know you're there and ogle him from a distance. He's getting warm from the movements, so he's ditched the coat. Now he's just rocking a threadbare shirt and pants, so.

C. Griffons are better than people

Because fuck people, honestly. Griffons don't care about politics or image or whatever. They just want food and head scratches. And after the Grand Necropolis debacle, Carver's happy to spend time up there with the beasts, giving them bits of food and learning about them. They're used to him enough now that they're not quite as rambunctious and screechy when he comes up, though that might have more to do with the fact that he always comes with food.

Carver's also wisened up; most of the shiny things on him are hidden or just entirely absent. Still, it doesn't stop one from trying to pick at a button on his shirt. Carver gently whaps its beak. "Don't you try it. Beth will give me that look and chide me, and I can't sew for shit." A protesting squawk. "Look, I'll bring you something big and shiny to play with next time. Knowing our luck, you'd swallow this thing and choke on it."

He gets perturbed look.

"I'm right and you know it."

D. Wildcard

You know the drill