therookery | 02

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02 | OPEN

FORM: Sending Crystal.
SENDER: Lakshmibai
RECIPIENT: Any one and everyone.
WHAT: Head of Community Outreach & Are you a rifter? Do you know how to weave? Want to turn a profit and help out the inquisition? Please inquire.
WHEN: Time is a flat circle.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: nothing too serious

Greetings... It is Rani Lakshmibai.

[ Right, that out of the way. ]

I have two matters which I need a moment - [ Here we go. ] - I have recently been made Head of Community Outreach, for which I'm honoured. I wish to a little more to understand where I might be applied in helping others, but as yet many things still escape me as where help might be best applied to those that need it. If you have a moment to speak with me, in person, I would be much obliged. My Quarters are in the Gallows.

[ Onwards then, because who works and doesn't overwork? Not her. ] Secondly, and for rifters amongst us... I have spoken with Master Barnabas, a merchant here in Kirkwall, and I realised that whilst what many of us bring in terms of items here can be desirable and turn a good profit for it's... foreign nature. Such things are short-term investments. [ And that as far as she's concerned, is a waste. ] As such, I am looking for women or men, of moderate skill in weaving textiles and who can take direction easily, to join me in such work. You will be paid, though primarily, all extra earnings are to be funded back into the Inquisition. I intend to work things that no part of Thedas has seen before, and feel we are uniquely qualified for such an endeavour.

If such a thing is in your ability, please enquire.

[ Somewhere, her husband is following her about, tugging at her hair and laughing. ]

That is all. My regards.

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[ It thankfully doesn't, and even if it did - well. Glass houses and all that. ]

I will look forward to meeting you.

[That's a relief.]

Likewise, Rani. I'll be in the Gallows again in roughly twenty minutes. Which tower and floor would I find you in?

I believe they call it the former Templar Tower? On the forth floor. My door is open to you.

[About twenty minutes later there's a knock on the door. Anders stands outside it, fluffy cat purring on his shoulder and shedding hair all over his dark blue robes.]

It's me. Anders. I've come to... convert, roughly speaking.

[ She's to be found in her rooms, door open - and the room is immaculately clean. Bed made, floor thoroughly swept, everything in an exact place. She, herself, had her head bowed over the desk, writing something - a scrawl of no language spoken here, certainly. Sanskrit letters that form long lines, until she is spoken too.

Or more exactly too. How she is spoken too. She looks at him, curious, blank, but there is a hardness in her eyes, her mouth. Something roughly beaten flat to her, all iron. ]

You will state to me what you mean, as plainly as possible. I will reserve my judgement after that.

[ Perhaps it is no more than the word, conversion. Maybe it is that she is exceptionally old hand at this. She is not as important as she had been, but she is determined to be useful as was possible. But she won't be played a fool. ]

[He blinks at her, friendly expression fading as his stance goes a little defensive and on guard.]

It's a joke. For the, the outreach? I run a Clinic in the poor part of the city, Darktown, which most don't give a care about so I have to convert them to caring before they help. Generally.

[Has someone decided to 'help' out between his speaking with her and now, tell her about his past? It wouldn't be a first, and his body language says he's considering just leaving.]

[ Hers remains flatly the same. Then nods and her hand drifts, starting to take notes, his name, where he works. ]

Then sit, and tell me what you need. I do not like playing games, you will understand, I have been dealing with nobles for most of my life. I was a Queen before I came here.

[ She gestures, to the seat beside her. ] Start at the beginning, what is most required? What can I help get you first? I'd like my first acts to help those that have been ignored longest. Do you need beds? Walls repaired?

And I'm a mage, which means I've been considered as not even a person for most of my life.

[He doesn't sit. Anders leans against the wall, wary.]

I joke, because that eases conversation between equals. I am a person, you are a person. I'll choose not to hold your nobility against you.

[That might be a joke. It might not be. He doesn't let it linger all that long.]

The poor in Darktown need food and blankets most of all. It's cold and damp down there which means they fall ill easily and food rots. Walls and such, they can use repair, yes, throughout the place, but too nice of a residence could get families targeted by gangs and pushed out. Beds... beds will mold and mildew and become infested, but of actual use there would be straw, cots, and bedding rather than what we have up here. Shoes. Shoes would be good too. I've got medical and educational needs covered, but it's those things, the tangible things that take money, that I can't do.

[ She doesn't respond to it - there is a lot to say in response to that. But in the end, they've got work to do. ]

You're gracious to me. [ The other joke might have fallen with her - but that one, despite everything, flickers the smallest smile at the corner of her mouth. ] I'll ask for your patience. We do not have such magic as here, in my home. Only monsters.

[ But when he begins to talk, she goes to work. Starts taking notes, strings of them. Her hand moving across the page at a great speed in her language. Flicking up between him at times, to nod, show she's still looking. ]

Bedding and shoes, how does that sound to start? And may I request a tour of your clinic? To see where else I could think of whilst I'm there.

[A little bit of the tension eases from him at the little smile, though 'monsters' certainly has him still a little watchful.]

That sounds excellent to start, and yes. I go down to Darktown after lunch every day, you're welcome to join me on my walk tomorrow. It's... Have you been to Darktown before?

[A former queen might be entirely unprepared for what all is down there. Nobles aren't the most in-touch people he's ever met.]

I have. It was the second place I went when I arrived. If you want to know the truth of a city, know its poor. But it was a stranger who was distrusted and could only learn so much, so I will be glad to join you tomorrow.

[ Agreed, that sorted. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over another. The writing tool in her fingers flicking quickly in an absent twitch, an inability to stay completely still at times. Her darkly gold eyes watching him, flicking over his face.

Not... entirely different to that cat on his shoulder. Even if that's not a comparison she'd make of herself.

Carefully, she picks her words. But they are forward, she looks at him, and she looks only at him. She means as she says, and does as she means. Like every problem life was a cavalry charge to be run at, led from the front until her throat bled from screaming war cries. Time had tempered her some, taught her patience.

But London burned, with the strength of that determination. She had wrought what no one thought possible. ]

Let me be... honest with you, for if this is to work, we must have honesty. I am Queen true enough, but ruling is different to me then how I see these nobles work. I work with these hands, and this body, no less and no more. I have walked slums no different to those of Darktown, lived in them as no one. I have been a daughter of a servant, gone hungry as it. I have been the wife of a King, and worn gold enough to make even this Empress of Orlais sick with envy.

I promise you and all those that look to you, those things are at your disposal as equally as they are to anyone else. And if you cannot believe me at my words, I do not blame you. [ How could she not? She might not like how Gwen had told it to her, but it was a truth. A stranger walking in making demands, as a Queen no less, was not how goodwill was built. ] But if you call, I will come with no more than my two hands if I must, and do what you need as best as I can. I ask only to give me that chance to try and prove that to be true.

[He watches her as she speaks, listens to her words, weighs them, and finds not just truth there. There's a strength and a certainty in the way she offers. Anders sits down.]

I am not a healer and teacher alone.

[She wants honesty. He'll take her at her word and be honest back even as it might chase her off. Who he is and what he's done has chased off plenty of others in the past. Better she hear it now, though.]

I am also, depending on who you ask, terrorist or freedom fighter. I have killed for freedom for my people, the mages. What I do at my Clinic is not atonement, because nothing I can do will atone. But I do what I can with my own two hands, and accept the help of any who want to help. Darktown's needs are greater than any one person, or even any group of people.

If you'll work with me, I will welcome all you'll give.

[ Something plays there - something, so infinitely amusing to her but it comes no further than the flicker of a smile in her mouth, then the flat hungry thing behind her eyes as she dips her head. Acknowledging his words. ]

Then we are well matched.

[ And she moves on. ]

You'll understand, of course, that there is little to be done with what the Inquisition has by itself. A great deal of patching holes in a broken damn wall is what it looks like.

[The changes are difficult to read, faint amusement? some sort of hidden anger? He can't put name to it, but she's not ordering him out or changing her mind about helping so he files it away to think about another day. He nods.]

I know. There's little as it is, and Darktown will ever be lowest priority for every organization. It provides no money and no power. What can be added will help. Currently we've the Chantry pretending to care and sending aid down... but Darktown has been here for centuries and the Chantry has never cared before.

[His smile is a little cold.]

They'll help, and when they've got whatever they're after, they'll stop. But we will still be here. I will still be here, as I've been for... [he waves a hand.] Nine years? Something like. And maybe the Chantry will actually be useful for a time for more than simply keeping people down, persecuting, and enslaving. Wouldn't that be a change. And now I've gone off track, my apologies. In short, whatever help can come to Darktown is welcome, regardless of how much or little it is or what agenda it serves.

Edited 2018-08-07 18:51 (UTC)

Mm.

[ She's careful, of course, she must be. She is first and foremost a rifter and a precarious position that is. One day she is a half step from being a demon, forced to wear a collar to protect others, the next, just a human. She does not doubt that if they were to become too vocal, such things can be taken back.

And when you weren't even considered human - well. ]

Faith offers much, but it can lose its way. Especially when there is grandness to be had. But even if their interest is brief and self-serving... then best we use it whilst we have it to its full extent.

My thoughts exactly.

[The charity offered is more than likely simply a show, but it's a show that provides something they wouldn't have otherwise. The supplements are needed, even if the funding for those supplements came from mage labor for so many years.]

I'll see you tomorrow, then. If you can meet me in the infirmary here in the Gallows just after lunchtime, that would be easiest for me. I take my lunch there as I finish my shift.

Certainly.

[ Another book is pulled out - one that seems to be where she structures other parts of her life. Organised, this one, meticulously so. Not that a word of it would be much in the way of legible. The marathi script that goes along in little-dotted notes of curled up letters.

It is, however, messy though. ]

I'll see you then.

[He finishes up his lunch quickly and gathers up what he's taking down - the usual small kit along with herbs he'd gathered extra of from the garden this morning. Just in case he fills a second waterskin. There's no telling if a queen would expect to enter a place with no easy, or even mildly inconvenient, access to water.]

[ There's no airs and graces to when she arrives. She is just one more Inquisition soldier. The sturdy greens and browns of any of them. The concession still of the sash tied around her body, to denote her in particular. The gold nose ring hooking by a chain to her hair, the tikka in her hair and laying flat to her brow.

Her knock on the door is firm, her off hand balancing on the sword on her belt. Waiting for him - leaning into her hip. ]

[She gets a quick look over before he's nodding and joining her, holding out the second waterskin. His robes are dark blue with silver accents, Grey Warden colors, and his jewelry is equally minimal - small band on his ring finger, small silver hoop in an ear, and a sliver of chain showing while the most of it sits under his robes.]

I'm glad to see you. Shall we?

[There's no time like the present, and if she's amenable then he's heading out, toward the stairs.]

[ She takes it, tying it to the clips of the high waisted belted she prefers, keeping it steady. There is to every movement - a brisk utilitarian nature. An economy that spares little for things that it does not need. More soldier than a lady, and maybe she takes pride in that too, but it comes down to simple weigh up of needs. ]

By all means, lead on.

[ She gestures, letting him take the front. ]

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02 | OPEN

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To the actionmobile!

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Laaaaaate, I'm sorry.

np!!

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