[When Ellis returns to the Gallows, he will find his mailbox stuffed full of various little notes and letters and at least two books which Wysteria apparently considered to be of the utmost importance that he have. The notes themselves are typical fare from their correspondence—equal parts serious ruminations on this book or that scrap of news, the most tawdry gossip, and a great deal of miscellaneous observations (she is, for example, considering investing in a new pair of field boots).
Maybe once he has returned to the Gallows then he will begin to understand that this message constituted an emergency.]
Mister Ellis, do you know how to stop a goat from chewing on furniture? —Oh and I hope everything is very well and that you don't receive this at too inconvenient an hour.
Maybe once he has returned to the Gallows then he will begin to understand that this message constituted an emergency.]
Mister Ellis, do you know how to stop a goat from chewing on furniture? —Oh and I hope everything is very well and that you don't receive this at too inconvenient an hour.
[ Hearing her voice is a shock. Like climbing out of the Deep Roads and tuning his face towards the sun.
Thot is circling in loose, wobbly loops around. It's late and dark and bitter cold, and Ellis listens to the message three times while he makes up his mind whether or not to reply. ]
I'm here. [ Quietly, voice controlled. It's late. There's no reason to believe Wysteria is awake. ] You need a salt lick or two, and a trough of loose minerals to sort out the chewing.
Thot is circling in loose, wobbly loops around. It's late and dark and bitter cold, and Ellis listens to the message three times while he makes up his mind whether or not to reply. ]
I'm here. [ Quietly, voice controlled. It's late. There's no reason to believe Wysteria is awake. ] You need a salt lick or two, and a trough of loose minerals to sort out the chewing.
[It's late and dark and even in Kirkwall, the cold in the air hangs close and wet. But Wysteria is, in fact, awake and so scrambles for the crystal.]
Oh, you're there! [—bursts through the crystal, comically loud. And then, in a much lower hiss but without an apology as if Wysteria is simultaneously unaware of her own indiscretion and fully aware of the importance of being delicate with the open channel of communication:] What sort of loose minerals? There are lots of different kinds, Mister Ellis.
Oh, you're there! [—bursts through the crystal, comically loud. And then, in a much lower hiss but without an apology as if Wysteria is simultaneously unaware of her own indiscretion and fully aware of the importance of being delicate with the open channel of communication:] What sort of loose minerals? There are lots of different kinds, Mister Ellis.
[ Left in Ellis’ dining hall pigeonhole after at least two weeks of silent avoidance, maybe more, what is time:
One, a small book of woodcut-illustrated children’s fables. The one marked with a scrap of paper, opposite an ending-spoiling woodcut of a bear skeleton, is a brief tale about a bear who snaps and snarls at all of the other animals in the forest because he’s bothered by a burr between his toes. Eventually the bear dies alone and delirious from an infection of the paw. When his corpse is discovered all of the other woodland creatures say it’s good he’s dead, because clearly he was vicious and he might have eaten them otherwise. Cocklebur grows from his skeleton. The end.
In a carefully legible version of Bastien’s scrawl, the bookmark says, ]
I am sorry for being a dick about your ring.
[ And, two, three dog biscuits. Three dog biscuits he might otherwise have given to Whiskey, the floppy, jowly princess of his heart. It's really the bigger gesture. ]
One, a small book of woodcut-illustrated children’s fables. The one marked with a scrap of paper, opposite an ending-spoiling woodcut of a bear skeleton, is a brief tale about a bear who snaps and snarls at all of the other animals in the forest because he’s bothered by a burr between his toes. Eventually the bear dies alone and delirious from an infection of the paw. When his corpse is discovered all of the other woodland creatures say it’s good he’s dead, because clearly he was vicious and he might have eaten them otherwise. Cocklebur grows from his skeleton. The end.
In a carefully legible version of Bastien’s scrawl, the bookmark says, ]
I am sorry for being a dick about your ring.
[ And, two, three dog biscuits. Three dog biscuits he might otherwise have given to Whiskey, the floppy, jowly princess of his heart. It's really the bigger gesture. ]
[ The biscuits are well-received.
The book is—
Well, the book is interesting. Beautiful. However, the meaning of the marked passage escapes him. Is the bear meant as a cautionary tale for Ellis?
By and by, a similarly carefully scribed message appears via book. ]
There is no need for apology.
(The gifts are very kind.)
The book is—
Well, the book is interesting. Beautiful. However, the meaning of the marked passage escapes him. Is the bear meant as a cautionary tale for Ellis?
By and by, a similarly carefully scribed message appears via book. ]
There is no need for apology.
(The gifts are very kind.)
[ Bastien takes time to notice it, and then takes more time to pluck at his lower lip—rare for him to fidget, but also rare for him to feel genuinely sorry about anything he’s done to anyone. Usually when he’s a dick, it’s to accomplish something.
He should have given into the urge to deface the book and draw a mustache on the bear skeleton, clearly. ]
In Orlais, "there is no need for apology" could mean:
1. Apologizing is useless and a little pathetic, because it should be obvious that I will never forgive you.
2. You did not disappoint me because I never expected more from you in the first place, you bumbling backwoods brute.
3. I have already poisoned you, ha ha ha ha!
4. It is alright.
I believe the last meaning remains in use only to keep us on our toes.
He should have given into the urge to deface the book and draw a mustache on the bear skeleton, clearly. ]
In Orlais, "there is no need for apology" could mean:
1. Apologizing is useless and a little pathetic, because it should be obvious that I will never forgive you.
2. You did not disappoint me because I never expected more from you in the first place, you bumbling backwoods brute.
3. I have already poisoned you, ha ha ha ha!
4. It is alright.
I believe the last meaning remains in use only to keep us on our toes.
[ drafted in tidy hand on the back of a scrap of paper used for notetaking on nug gestation and left in Ellis' box: ]
Scoutmaster,
In light of Warden Ellis’ recent discoveries in Weisshaupt and the encroach of corrupted rifts into the Crossroads, I’m formally requesting follow-up reconnaissance be carried out in the vicinity of Orentius University and/or Qarinus, where the missing records are said to have been sent. I trust you are better informed than I am about the accessibility of and unique dangers associated with either location.
Without more specific intelligence as to who the records are being funneled to, the university seems to me the better option for surveillance. If related research is being carried out on or around the grounds, there may be rumors about unexplained deaths or incidences of blight to overhear in local taverns. More targeted investigations could be carried out once leads are identified.
Of the others I know here, I can personally recommend Bastien and Mado as particularly well-suited to this task. I will also volunteer, provided you consider the pursuit worthwhile.
D. Dickerson
Scoutmaster,
In light of Warden Ellis’ recent discoveries in Weisshaupt and the encroach of corrupted rifts into the Crossroads, I’m formally requesting follow-up reconnaissance be carried out in the vicinity of Orentius University and/or Qarinus, where the missing records are said to have been sent. I trust you are better informed than I am about the accessibility of and unique dangers associated with either location.
Without more specific intelligence as to who the records are being funneled to, the university seems to me the better option for surveillance. If related research is being carried out on or around the grounds, there may be rumors about unexplained deaths or incidences of blight to overhear in local taverns. More targeted investigations could be carried out once leads are identified.
Of the others I know here, I can personally recommend Bastien and Mado as particularly well-suited to this task. I will also volunteer, provided you consider the pursuit worthwhile.
D. Dickerson
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heorte
- 2022-06-24 05:57 (UTC) - Expand[Evening wears on but the festivities in the Gallows courtyard must still be in full swing because the sound—the slightly bad music, someone laughing—bleeds through from under Wysteria's more pronounced:]
Mister Ellis, you had best be at some very excellent party in Kirkwall or I may be cross with you.
[No, then she would still be cross with him on account of not taking her along.]
Mister Ellis, you had best be at some very excellent party in Kirkwall or I may be cross with you.
[No, then she would still be cross with him on account of not taking her along.]
my extreme lol. what a miscalculation, thinking wysteria would just GIVE UP.
heorte
- 2022-11-08 20:34 (UTC) - Expand"Alright."
Not alright, let's start. Rather, alright, that's enough. There's the barest hint of resignation in his voice. Whether it's also on his face—a mystery, because it's very dark at the moment.
He's still on his feet. That's some progress from before. He finds the correct table in the dark, lights the lamp on top of it, and surveys the disorder: a few wooden chairs askew or knocked over, the carpet he'd hauled in bunched up on one side. Optimism has failed him; he isn't learning how to deal tell the distance of sounds just by practicing enough. He can't practice his ear back into functioning. The best he can do is to get used to not relying on it.
Disappointing. But he smiles.
"Most bruises tomorrow wins," he says. "That's how it actually works."
Not alright, let's start. Rather, alright, that's enough. There's the barest hint of resignation in his voice. Whether it's also on his face—a mystery, because it's very dark at the moment.
He's still on his feet. That's some progress from before. He finds the correct table in the dark, lights the lamp on top of it, and surveys the disorder: a few wooden chairs askew or knocked over, the carpet he'd hauled in bunched up on one side. Optimism has failed him; he isn't learning how to deal tell the distance of sounds just by practicing enough. He can't practice his ear back into functioning. The best he can do is to get used to not relying on it.
Disappointing. But he smiles.
"Most bruises tomorrow wins," he says. "That's how it actually works."
At some point, it had occurred to Ellis his unfair advantage. He is, after all, very accustomed to fighting in the dark. Bastien is not darkspawn; no part of him pings off Ellis' consciousness to prompt him turn or duck. But as it turns out, even with all this time spent above ground, Ellis still retains those same instincts that shift focus, rely on sound instead.
There's no reason to share this, knowing that this exact skill is what Bastien is attempting to relearn, to go without.
It's a close, narrow space. Ellis' gambeson is bunched on the floor, beneath an overturned chair. At Bastien's word, he palms briefly down his own torso, mapping out where fists had landed.
"What do we win?"
Odds are good it would not be Ellis claiming a victory, though he likes to think it will be a close competition.
There's no reason to share this, knowing that this exact skill is what Bastien is attempting to relearn, to go without.
It's a close, narrow space. Ellis' gambeson is bunched on the floor, beneath an overturned chair. At Bastien's word, he palms briefly down his own torso, mapping out where fists had landed.
"What do we win?"
Odds are good it would not be Ellis claiming a victory, though he likes to think it will be a close competition.
Despite the unveiling of offices, desks, and sundry, Ellis has not made it his habit to occupy any of these spaces regularly. (With an exemption for Research, where he is often seeking company rather than attending to any particular duties.) When he presents himself in his assigned place, it is often to drop off finished work, secure a new task.
It had been his intention to do much the same today. There is a slip of parchment in his pocket destined for Commander Flint's hand; in due time, Ellis would have climbed the many flights of stairs to Flint's office to deliver it himself.
The storeroom is only a detour. It is only luck that reveals the Commander on the other side of the storeroom door once opened, perhaps even in search of the same crate of maps Ellis has a mind to haul out for his own reference. There is a moment's pause just over the threshold, before Ellis steps in and allows the door to fall shut behind him.
"Commander," is a brisk, respectful greeting on the way to, "I've a list of names for you to look over."
It had been his intention to do much the same today. There is a slip of parchment in his pocket destined for Commander Flint's hand; in due time, Ellis would have climbed the many flights of stairs to Flint's office to deliver it himself.
The storeroom is only a detour. It is only luck that reveals the Commander on the other side of the storeroom door once opened, perhaps even in search of the same crate of maps Ellis has a mind to haul out for his own reference. There is a moment's pause just over the threshold, before Ellis steps in and allows the door to fall shut behind him.
"Commander," is a brisk, respectful greeting on the way to, "I've a list of names for you to look over."
( it is: a package of cleaned, laundered and polished warden battlemage armour. it had clearly been repaired at some point before this most recent occasion; sewn up holes in fabric where a knife had got through. the laundresses have done a good job with the cloth parts, and the armor itself is not in bad shape at all, just a bit old, and dented from long-wear that was probably its original owners. pinned to it, a note: )
WARDEN
inquired about returning this when I arrived and didn't hear anything so didn't think much of it besides giving the thing some use — as I'd likely not have made it safe from Tevinter without it, I only meant respect to its past owner and it's no hardship to me to return it as that was plainly by your look not as it seemed. I like to think she'd have appreciated the position I was in. hope you can find it a home more fitting.
ABENDROTH
WARDEN
inquired about returning this when I arrived and didn't hear anything so didn't think much of it besides giving the thing some use — as I'd likely not have made it safe from Tevinter without it, I only meant respect to its past owner and it's no hardship to me to return it as that was plainly by your look not as it seemed. I like to think she'd have appreciated the position I was in. hope you can find it a home more fitting.
ABENDROTH
A note, folded twice and set into her mailbox—
Enchanter Abendroth,
There is a blacksmith in Kirkwall named Simeon. I have spoken with him, and provided what he'd need to forge you something new. He has created for mages before, he assures me, though it has been some time since.
See him at your leisure. He will see that you aren't left unguarded in the days to come.
— Warden Ellis
Enchanter Abendroth,
There is a blacksmith in Kirkwall named Simeon. I have spoken with him, and provided what he'd need to forge you something new. He has created for mages before, he assures me, though it has been some time since.
See him at your leisure. He will see that you aren't left unguarded in the days to come.
— Warden Ellis
[Wherever Ellis is in the public of the Gallows, Jude appears with a friendly wave.]
Ellis. [A respectful nod; they may not have spoken much, but they know of each other, enough to say hello.]
The Commander's asking for volunteers to help move a ballista to the Gallows for defense. Could still use a few hands, if you're free.
Ellis. [A respectful nod; they may not have spoken much, but they know of each other, enough to say hello.]
The Commander's asking for volunteers to help move a ballista to the Gallows for defense. Could still use a few hands, if you're free.
Edited 2023-06-10 17:56 (UTC)
[They are combing through stalls in the Lowtown markets in search of some mineral which Wysteria requires for the casting of a particular alloy, which involves quite a lot of meandering from one stall to the next—shuffling through the various chalky substances meant for alchemists and potters and so on, and the occasional verbal volley with the presiding merchant.
Presumably, Ellis is there to carry the large sack of the stuff when Wysteria actually finds and purchases what she requires and not to be ambushed. And yet—]
You don't suppose he's actually gone, do you?
[This, asked as Wysteria picks up a fistful of crumbling sand and sifts it back into the bag through her fingers. It's been only a few days since Loxley's announcement over the crystal. Not nearly enough time to become reasonably concerned.
And yet.]
Presumably, Ellis is there to carry the large sack of the stuff when Wysteria actually finds and purchases what she requires and not to be ambushed. And yet—]
You don't suppose he's actually gone, do you?
[This, asked as Wysteria picks up a fistful of crumbling sand and sifts it back into the bag through her fingers. It's been only a few days since Loxley's announcement over the crystal. Not nearly enough time to become reasonably concerned.
And yet.]
And yet.
"He has been away for some time now."
Not a yes, but Ellis has parsed out the options. How long a shardbearer can be away from the Gallows. Whether or not Richard would abandon all his things. Whether he would simply go without a word to anyone at all.
Maybe he has come to a conclusion, and is only waiting for Wysteria to arrive there alongside him.
"He has been away for some time now."
Not a yes, but Ellis has parsed out the options. How long a shardbearer can be away from the Gallows. Whether or not Richard would abandon all his things. Whether he would simply go without a word to anyone at all.
Maybe he has come to a conclusion, and is only waiting for Wysteria to arrive there alongside him.
[ Appearing on the page at an inconvenient hour, when a good majority of the gallows is asleep: ]
I'm back.
I'm back.
The envelope is not left in Ellis' pigeonhole in the morning of Satinalia, for the gift giver has some sense that he may conveniently avoid glancing in the cubby's direction for as long as humanly possible. Instead, it's slipped directly under the door to his quarters and is either there when he wakes up or or waiting for him when he returns from whatever eye wateringly early morning activities he's sought out.
It is just an envelope. Inside it is a little paper dog folded in much the same fashion as an earlier prototype. A close examination of the paper suggestes that it's an old bit of correspondence repurposed for folding (clean sheets of paper being notoriously hard to come by). The effect is suggestive of a brindled coat, which Wysteria has emphasized with various little pen markings to make the folded paper dog more closely resemble Ruadh.
It is just an envelope. Inside it is a little paper dog folded in much the same fashion as an earlier prototype. A close examination of the paper suggestes that it's an old bit of correspondence repurposed for folding (clean sheets of paper being notoriously hard to come by). The effect is suggestive of a brindled coat, which Wysteria has emphasized with various little pen markings to make the folded paper dog more closely resemble Ruadh.
[Shortly after the receipt of the T.R.I.P., the sum total of the collection has been shifted over to Ellis' pigeonhole. A scribbled note accompanying it reads—]
Mister Ellis, I'm passing this along for your review. I think it's very kind. You will have to help me decide what's to be done with the drawing. Otherwise, please keep what you wish to. —W.
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