therookery | oo5. | resilient little thing just like mama made you

You know it. What have you got?

Edited 2021-10-24 02:36 (UTC)

Something the Provost has designed. I can show you, but I'm not sure I can explain it well.

Oh shit.

[This sounds like an approving sort of oh shit.]

I'm in. Let me know a place and time.

Probably two days from now in the morning?

I'll make sure I'm here. Meet you in the griffon tower?

Sounds great! See you then.

[ Log is here! ]

Edited (added log info) 2021-10-26 03:31 (UTC)

I've never ridden a griffon, but I could change that.

Oh, excellent! I could also provide training, separate from this, if you'd like.

I'm certainly not going to say no to the opportunity.

( it's not something that she's thought of, before, but—hell, it can't be worse than jogging. )

[ Adrasteia sounds very pleased. ]

When are you next available?

My mornings are flexible, at the moment. I usually exercise first thing.

Lovely. Tomorrow then?

I'll see you in the morning.

I'll be the elf in riding gear with her hair up.

Sunbeam and I would be happy to help!

Great! I'll let you know when but it'll probably be in a few days.

[Whispered]

Is it a secret?

Oh definitely not, I just want to make sure that I have everyone who is interested. Two days from now, in the morning?

Can do that. Will make sure Sunbeam is fed early that day.

Wonderful! See you then Edgard.

I thought doves already had wings of their own.

[A little joke, given his nickname for her.]

Why in the Realms would you need to borrow a griffon's?

Griffons can fly higher than doves. They can carry more stuff, too.

They also smell infinitely worse.

[But that's beside the point.]

Mmph. Equipment this, griffon that— I'm beginning to think you've forgotten all about me.

They are bigger. [ A chuckle. ]

I could never forget you, my friend.

Shall we get something to eat and catch up?

I’d like nothing more.

[He's not being facetious; he absolutely does mean it.]

Especially after having at last met your stunning paramour.

Lovely! [ She even claps a little. This woman is impossibly excited. ] Where shall I meet you?

My home in Lowtown, perhaps? Just by the water, overlooking the slopeways that lead towards the docks.

It’s the iron door without a mark on it. [Kirkwall’s aesthetics be damned.] Knock twice.

I’ll scrounge up some wine.

I'll bring wine, don't worry; I owe you a housewarming gift as it is.

I'll be there soon.

[ Soon is about a half hour, forty-five minutes perhaps. There are two loud knocks to his door, unmarked, and an elf with a staff at her back and a twinkle in her eye on the other side of it. ]

[He doesn’t bring his dagger to the doorway. The signal she gives is enough to put him at ease long before he reaches it, cracking open the heavy iron door and offering her a path inside through all the clutter.]

My darling. [Astarion croons as she passes, bowing as though she were Hightown’s finest descended from on high.]

So glad you could join me. It’s been ages, you know.

And I’ve missed you so.

[ She has wine. She also has a plant; a rather rare one, actually, though it hasn't blossomed yet and she'd mostly gotten it because the person who sold it to her promised it would thrive in nearly any condition. Possibly she should have gotten him an elfroot instead, but.

Well. ]

Hello, love. [ When Astarion stands again Adrasteia curtsies and then leans up to kiss him on the cheek. ] I missed you too.

[The softer scent of that plant is pervasive, made all the more apparent by that warm kiss set just against the rise of his cheek. It's a strange gift— if she's indeed brought it as an offering— only because Astarion doesn't picture himself as the nurturing type.

But Astarion, avaricious in his heart, hopes she's brought it for him all the same.]

Despite the fact that I doubt you've been shedding any tears over our time apart, [he starts, pacing after her and finding his way into settling down into one of the chairs by the fire] I'm opting to believe you.

This is for you. [ The plant which she places on a tabletop as she makes her way to a different seat near the fireplace. ] It should thrive even without much sunlight, I was told; let's find out if that's true.

Are tears the only way to miss someone?

[ Adrasteia tilts her head as she settles into one of the chairs across from him. She'd take off her boots and tuck her feet beneath her but this is still Lowtown; there's any number of reasons they may suddenly need to be outside, and she won't be caught unprepared. ]

Are you still interested in accompanying me to Orlais?

They’re certainly the most overtly flattering way to miss someone.

[He crosses the distance to gently (curiously) touch one of the plant’s leaves with a sort of idle fascination, watching it bounce back from where he presses. Alive and yet not living, all at once.

Hm.]

Any excuse to venture to Orlais is a good one.

Dancing, music, wine, gilded masks— I could do with getting away from all this chalky Kirkwall stone.

[In other words: yes, darling. Absolutely he is.]

Then we should go soon, I think, if we wish to only be gone a handful of days.

[ Obviously, Adrasteia would like to spend as little time away from the Gallows as possible. ]

You'll have to get me into all the good parties; I'm afraid I just don't tend to be terribly interesting to the upper echelons of Orlesians.

[ Half-true. Most of them treat her like the help, despite being a Grey Warden. It's the ears, she knows well. ]

Tonight? I'll pack my bags right now. [Is he teasing or is he serious? Either way, it ends with him fetching a suitable traveling pack and beginning to dig though his own belongings in search of silk, trinkets, perfume— even a few hairpins, jeweled and glittering like stars.]

You will be this time. I'll make sure of that.

[There are exceedingly easy ways to mask ears in Orlais, though it's very much frowned upon, of course (to say the absolute least)— not that discretion and mystery are difficult ventures for Astarion.] Why, much like that one fictional story, the one about the girl and the....shoe or something, you could live the most dashing fantasy so long as you're clever enough about leaving without anyone knowing who you are.

[ Adrasteia opens her mouth to say that she meant tomorrow, but...well, leaving tonight isn't actually the worst idea, she decides, and if he can tolerate going back to the gallows for a pair of borrowed mounts (her unnamed horse having gone with Ellis off to the North) so instead she settles back into her seat and smiles, tilting her head in curiosity at the various trinkets that Astarion pulls out of his bag as he searches. ]

The girl and the shoe? [ A nose wrikle. There's a lot of stories about girls and shoes. ] Not the ones who danced themselves to death, I hope.

[ It'll help, with hiding her hair, that it's so long and curly. Plus she never wears it down. Other things that will help: her flawless Orlesian that only has a hint of a southern accent, and she can usually train herself out of that. ]

Edited 2021-12-15 01:13 (UTC)

[Could he possibly be more proud of her? Debatable. But he supposes once they're on the road, that determination will be in her very pretty little hands.]

What? Gods no— just what sort of stories do you tell here, anyway? [For shame, Thedas. Although it does make him realize he could likely make a damned fortune rehashing stories from Faerun and giving all credit to himself instead.

...and then a human would likely steal those publishings and take credit for it. Boo.]

The young pauper girl who was whisked away for a glorious night at a prince's ball, transformed into a beautiful maiden by the cambion she'd made a devil's pact with.

At midnight, the spell faded— as per the deal— and she was forced to flee the ball in mystery, leaving behind only a single crystal slipper. A trinket the prince treasured for all his days.

Romantic, isn't it?

I don't know if I would call it such, [ Adrasteia says without malice. ] The girl presumably returns to a life of poverty; the prince never knows who he danced with. The romance is all in a lie, and a brief one.

Which I guess can be romantic. I don't know. [ She shakes her head a little. ] I've not... [ Augh, how to even say this? ] There hasn't been a lot of unpractical romance in my life before now. Not that Sidony isn't practical, it's just... it's different.

[ She twists her fingers a little and sighs. ]

Thus, needing your help to get her something nice.

Well if she really wanted to lift herself out of poverty, she could’ve done something practical like stolen from the people she was indebted to. But can you imagine, going from nothing into high society? She’d have been a disgrace. Laughed right out of the kingdom.

No, better to have the dream, rather than the taxing reality.

Maybe not worth selling her soul, though. But— [There, he clicks his tongue.] who can say, really.

[Hauling his own pack over his shoulder, Astarion gives the little plant a tiny brush across its fragrant leaves with one finger.]

Ready? Or would you prefer to dine before we dash?

One night at a fancy party is definitely not worth whatever selling one's soul entails. Do you get to buy it back? What happens to it afterward, is the person who sold it even aware of the lack?

[ Adrasteia shrugs. She wouldn't, is the point. ]

I would prefer to grab my pack from the Gallows. But I don't need to eat, no. Also we should get horses.

Or... [He pauses there, checking his own nails with the slyest of smiles before tugging a pair of dark leather gloves in place. Something to hide his anchor-shard when not within the confines of his home.

His own well kept secret, now.] we could steal a ride, if you're not opposed.

From here, in the city?

[ She raises her eyebrows. ]

Alright. But if anyone asks, it's important Grey Warden business.

Only the most important Grey Warden business, in fact.

[Said with an offered arm, as always. The one indulgence he perpetually carries when it comes to her.

The only person he continues to dote on as if she were royalty, despite the fact that he knows— and also keeps— said royalty tucked beneath his tattered wing.]

I’ll let you decide if we ever return whatever exceedingly pretty carriage we find.

[ She takes it, easily. Her mind has just made the connection between 'getting into fancy parties' and 'stealing a pretty carriage, focus on pretty' and is vaguely wondering just what she's gone and agreed to.

Only vaguely. The rest of her is fully on board for what promises to be at the very least a rather interesting night, and she hasn't had a lot of those recently. Well. Interesting in the nonviolent method. ]

I suppose we'll leave the pack in the Gallows, then, and just head out?

Quicker than you can blink, my dear.

[The chastest of kisses pressed to her temple, and he's swept her keenly out the door. Hightown can come after the Gallows.

A no doubt thrilling start to their rapturous adventure.]

oo5. | resilient little thing just like mama made you

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are you interested in a log, y/n?

I'm down!

awesome I'll craft one

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would you be interested in a log (for the equipment testing) y/n?

hella!!

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would you be interested in a log (for the equipment testing) y/n?

circles y and adds an exclamation point and two stars

awesome! log incoming

yay!

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pins a little gold star on this thread for completion?