Post by Aatami Tarathiel on Jun 30, 2016 23:19:30 GMT -5
Welcome to Skyhold
open to one
It was surprisingly nice to be back in Skyhold. Aatami found the windy altitude a welcome relief from the heat of the lowlands where he’d spent the last several weeks, and his body had adapted to the climb more quickly than he’d hoped. Skyhold was the first ‘home’ he could remember with clarity, since he’d been cast out of his first home at six, and it held a fond place in his heart despite the mood Aatami had been in when he left. The end of the Inquisition spelled the end of Skyhold as a home; needless to say, fifteen year old Aatami had not reacted well, and even at twenty eight, he still felt his lip curl in disgust towards the memory of when he heard the Inquisitor decided the Inquisition would be no more.
The walls seemed smaller than before, Aatami noticed, purposefully steering his thoughts away from the past. The Inquisitor, though he was the party’s host, did not deserve Aatami’s attention. Instead, he tried to think of the happier memories and his favorite places within the walls. As a messenger boy, he’d spent more time within the walls than most of the rank and file who had come to the Inquisition’s banner. As a slave, he’d learned to explore every nook and cranny of a place for the best place to hide, at Skyhold, he’d kept to the same habits and found the out of the way corners to make his own, away from other’s attention (and where it was warm, he wasn’t welcome at the main camp’s fires). Now he took the opportunity to revisit some of those places in an unusual spate of nostalgia.
The Lucky Blighters were technically at the party on business. Most of their squads were contracted to protect a handful of lesser nobles who could not field enough guards away from the fields during the summer, and now that they were at the party, they left a handful to watch camp and rotated often to give everyone a chance to enjoy the festivities. Aatami’s, the Crows, were guarding a particularly finicky noble with illusions of grandeur. She was at the party to find a husband, and made no secret of that fact. Her agenda also didn’t stop her from flirting outrageously with the rest of the Crows. She only really avoided the female members of the squad and Bloodcrow himself. Aatami’s tattoos, scars, and scowl warded plenty of people away from him; he wasn’t exactly pretty for an elf.
Aatami realized his thumb was rubbing the scar on his cheek, the one that extended his vallaslin towards his jaw. He took his hand away and leaned on the ramparts, looking down at the primping peacocks strutting about the party. Most were inside, but there were plenty outside, enjoying the midsummer sun. As Aatami watched, several split off to the outer buildings, some in groups to explore, maybe introduce a new alliance. Occasionally, a couple escaped for a dalliance, giggling and looking around (never up) to see who watched them. Aatami noticed a few solo travelers stealing away, and wondered idly what they were searching for. Maybe the treasury? Even the ex-Inquisitor wouldn’t leave that unguarded during the party, if he had any guards left. Rumors said the Inquisitor lived in Skyhold alone and did dark magic rituals. Aatami had seen enough staff to know that rumor was partially wrong.
The elf looked at the nearby tower. If he remembered correctly, that was where most of the mages had their workshop. He’d spent many hours loitering, hoping to overhear a scrap of advice to learn to control his own powers, but few had spoken around an apostate elfling.
Aatami headed towards the tower anyways. Maybe the old hand and footholds he’d carved out were still there. He’d carved them out, just enough to reach a small ledge, just enough for an underfed elf to hide and catch a few whispers that escaped the tower’s windows and came to his ears when the wind was just right.
Location: on the walls by the mage tower
