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 wherewithal, tag: valasan
Eirik Vadi
 Posted: Apr 15 2018, 04:33 PM
Quote
Eirik Vadi
20 YEARS OLD
He/Him
Rogue
77
POSTS
Elf
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Assassin
Scout
Day
She/Her - EST


25 Cloudreach, 9:41

It was a dry morning, on the cusp of spring and winter—thankfully warm enough for Eirik not to have woken with freezing fingers, as he might have, if he had done the same in the unforgiving wilderness of the Hinterlands that had been his home. It had been the small hours of the morning since his last memory. He’d only a notion of how much time had passed when he heard the chirping of birds overhead.

He had come here following Valasan, but had seen little of the elf since, so absorbed was he in taking in the new sights and sounds. Looking back on it, the two of them had come quite close to death, and in fact, the other two scouts (whom Eirik had hardly known) had met their end at the demon’s claws. The other Dalish elf had seemed quite put out by it. “Why didn’t you tell this one he ought to adapt to survive?” He had asked over one of their skewered corpses. “Or was he not privy to your wisdom?”

He supposed this had not endeared him any towards the mage, who had spent their time traveling back to Skyhold in a huff, moping over the humans’ deaths.

No one knew what he was doing here, yet, for the Inquisitor herself had inducted him as a guest and nothing more. They had yet to wrangle him into any actual work. He had settled into a nice, soft bed, explored the area, then had been lured by the bustle and activity of the tavern. Perhaps due to the Inquisitor’s influence, the people here were much more obliging towards a Dalish elf than he was used to. Some of them had even seen him speaking to her. There was some merit in a human’s tendency to assume they were related, or at least connected, for he sometimes found himself treated with an unwarranted amount of respect, not the least of which was a free round of drink. Or several.

He was quickly swept up in the crowd. For months he had lived a Dalish life, isolationist, dignified and enduring. Yet there was still some part of him that thought it was a shame he’d have to live hidden in the woods. He was so young—in his prime, in fact. Didn’t he deserve to be admired? That night he drank until he couldn’t taste the bitterness anymore, lips locked with a stranger, intimacy and inebriation mixing to create a raucous blood-rush that eventually (he vaguely remembered) had him pushed out the tavern door. From there, his memory greyed out. He had made his way down into the stables. (It was a wonder he had even found Mana in his state.) He had tried to clamber onto her back, though he couldn’t remember why: maybe he had thought to leave Skyhold, or maybe he had meant to ride her straight back into the tavern. See if they could have kept a hart out of the door.

A good sport about it all, the swiftwind hart had patiently let him slide off her back to land prone on the ground, then stood beside him as he slept, dozing.

As the sun rose, Mana was the first to rise, alerted by the sound of a door opening. She shook out her blue coat, beadlets of dew spraying from her antlers down to the round tuft of her tail. Raising her head to look at the early riser, she seemed to recognize Valasan, letting out a few friendly chuffs before she began to eat breakfast: a bundled bale of hay. On the ground, Eirik had begun to move. He rolled over, raising an arm to rub the side of his head, but otherwise remained flat on the pasture.

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Valasan Lavellan
 Posted: Apr 21 2018, 01:43 AM
Quote
Valasan Lavellan
25 YEARS OLD
He, him
Mage
147
POSTS
Elf
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Rift Mage & Spirit Healer
Inquisition Battlemage
Isilzheha
He/Him/Monster - EST


A good portion of the previous day had been spent finalizing the reports regarding what had happened in the Hinterlands. Valasan had left with two scouts and returned without them and a completely unfamiliar Dalish in tow, the sight of them both raising some eyebrows when they had returned. Even stopping at the forward camp to replenish supplies and bring the two fallen scouts they had looked a little worse for wear. The fear demon had been relentless, and there was a sense of guilt that it was Valasan’s fault they had died. He should have been able to protect them, as that had been his job, and instead they both lost their lives. Eirik hadn’t, that much was certain in the way annoying comments followed the mage all the way to Skyhold. At some point he seemed to gather the hint, picking up on Valasan’s desire for a change in subject in regards to the two recently deceased. Even without convincing the other Dalish to join the Inquisition they still would have found the rift and no doubt the outcome could have been the same. Still, the mage felt partly responsible in this case.

It was becoming easier as the days passed and battles were fought to compartmentalize, and in truth once he arrived back at the keep it had been easier to remove himself. It still bothered him to some degree, but not as much as when it had happened. Life would go on, and it was important to make sure they did not die for nothing. Normally being awake this early was seen as a crime for the mage, often times not needed unless it was entirely important to gather some brawn for whatever task might be laid before them. Energy was slow to build within the still waking elf as he crossed the courtyard to go into the main hall. Very few others were awake at this hour, either not having slept yet or otherwise engaged just as the mage was. A couple hours still remained before Valasan had to do anything, although that time would be spent catching his mind up to speed and preparing for the day.

Navigating to the kitchen was not difficult, Valasan already beginning to grow accustomed to the castle. Hopefully soon it would start looking different as they repaired it, piecing it together to make it far more livable than it stood currently. The idea of watching it expand and grow was both exciting and terrifying in the same breath, an entire organization gaining power beneath the tutelage of an unlikely leader. It was stressful to think of how much still needed to be done, around Skyhold and simply in general. Valasan wondered how his clanmate felt, having had little time recently to sit down and hold a decent conversation with her. Carefully the mage stole through the kitchen, attempting to find something readily accessible that he didn’t have to dig around to find. Having just woken up he wasn’t particularly hungry, but knew it would be a good start. A bowl of blueberries sat amidst other assorted fruit, Valasan grabbing the bowl to dump some onto his hand so he didn’t stick them inside the bowl.

Putting the bowl back he plucked one of them up only to drop it in his mouth, a foot stretching out to push the door open. It creaked gently, although sounded louder with how quiet it was, and Valasan stepped outside once more and chewed another berry. Several steps were taken before ears perked at the expulsion of air, gaze drifting as steps faltered to see the familiar creature. She was shaking out her pelt, reacting to the sight of the Dalish as dark eyes tracked his movement. Pleased to see the deer Valasan walked over to where she stood at the fencing, stretching out to nibble at the hay. As he drew near he heard the rustling of the grass, and for a moment was confused to see that someone was laying out in the pasture so openly. That was until the arm obscuring the person’s face revealed the Dalish that had been recruited. Valasan simply stared in mild disbelief, a hint of irritation rising to the forefront the longer he watched the other elf simply lie in the grass. Sluggish were his movements, and it was clear he had been drinking.

The mage shifted over to the blue deer, taking another blueberry for himself before holding out his hand. Mana, Valasan remembered her name was, withdrew her head at first at the movement. Eyeing his hand almost with distrust nostrils would flare as she sniffed at what he was proffering her. With small satisfaction her lips peeled back so teeth could snatch the berries, free hand moving with practiced ease to stroke her nose. ”Such a beautiful creature let’s that ride on her?” he asked Mana, eyebrows lifting as a sideways look was cast to the rogue who remained prone. The deer sought more of the berries, though finding none she let out a snort and pulled her head up almost in disappointment. ”Yeah, Mana, that boy is yours. You should be ashamed.” Ears flicked at his voice, weight shifting and hunger no doubt beginning to curb. Valasan crossed his arms and leaned against the fence, lips pursed in slight disdain. ”Get up, Eirik.”

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Eirik Vadi
 Posted: Yesterday at 12:34 pm
Quote
Eirik Vadi
20 YEARS OLD
He/Him
Rogue
77
POSTS
Elf
SHIPPER
REQUEST
APPLICATION
DEVELOPMENT
Assassin
Scout
Day
She/Her - EST


Mana seemed to possess an intelligence that went beyond the average beast of burden. The way her dark eyes regarded Valasan was of a curiously human-like appraisal, studying his face through lashes blue as the rest of her fur. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, her breath puffed over the hand stroking her nose in a gentle snort; she felt his palm with an extended upper lip, a brief nibble, and then shook out her pelt to rid herself of the drowsiness that came with an early dawn. Now that the blueberries were depleted, she went back to the hay. Skyhold was full of fences to be sure, but just as Eirik had weathered a clan-less, barren winter, so had she; the Inquisition’s vast stores of grain were a welcome change. As she shifted to pull at the strands, Mana seemed conscious of where she put her hooves. Though slimmer than a horse’s, they still had significant weight behind them, and Eirik was lying quite close.

He was half-awake now, had been for the past moment or so. Enough to hear what Valasan was saying, anyway. Still, he only opened one eye—the one with the vallaslin embedded over it—almost surreptitiously. Maybe if he pretended like he was asleep, he would be left alone.

But, at Valasan’s direct address, and his request that he get up, Eirik wordlessly uncoiled. He stretched out his arms and his middle like a cat interrupted from its nap, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was lying on the ground instead of a mattress or even a bedroll. He sat up. He felt grass in his hair. Reaching back, Eirik adjusted his hair into a tighter ponytail, as it had loosened in the time he’d been lying in a stupor. Even then, strands of it remained out of place, sticking out in odd places and framing his face in a haphazard, awkward way. He surmised that he had passed out not long ago, as the drunken malaise was still weighing heavy on him. His head hurt, pounded, even, making him squint; the world around him swayed slightly as he grasped the fence to help him on his way up.

Altogether it took about half a minute for Eirik to get on his feet. He leaned against the fence. “What?”

Valasan seemed like fogey to him. He’d gotten a head start in that respect; the mage didn’t seem that old, but surely fancied himself a Keeper or something of the sort by the way he touted himself. He had moped the whole way back here over the scouts’ deaths. Eirik, on the other hand, had hardly blinked an eye; he had hardly known them, and he felt strongly that, if they wanted to survive, they might have handled a bow better, and on top of that the both of them had been human. Valasan had taken offense when Eirik had tried to pry the scout’s bow from his cold dead hands and it had gone downhill from there. And Eirik had even tried to be friendly with him, too; making conversation, offering him half a rabbit, scouting, pathfinding…

This would have been the first time Eirik had seen him since settling down at Skyhold about two days before. He rubbed his head. Through his squinted eyes, he could make out Valasan’s face, pursed in disapproval. His eyes were still such a vivid green. In the morning light his strands of hair were turned a dusky auburn. Even drunk as he was, he could guess where this was headed, and he was preemptively angry that Valasan would dare to lecture him. Who did he think he was? If Eirik wanted to pass out in the stables, then he would. It was none of this elf’s business. And he should have left Mana out of it. Horse-rider, he thought derisively.

Eirik already looked sulky. Both this and his drunkenness made him seem as though he were looking at Valasan through a half-lidded, side-eyed stare, a ring of pink-tinged, baggy skin puffed under each lower lid. His bottom lip was puffed out, too, just slightly. His shoulders were sagged. “I’m up, Validan,” he slurred.

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