turn down for

[darmisu]

Who| inquisitor lavellan & YOU
What| a challenger appears. said challenger weighs ~100lbs soaking wet.
Where| el training center.
When| in the downtime between arenas.
Warnings/Notes| none atm, will update if necessary.

A. Central Commons | OTA

This is all fucked up, but it's not the place of Inquisitor Lavellan, Herald of Your Mother to show it. She seems convivial enough, and is trying to compensate for how she clearly stands out. She hasn't seen another elf, and her ears (and the tattoos on her face, and the diminutive height and shape of elves in general) make her stick out. It's not that she minds sticking out, precisely, but she'd rather have it on her terms.

She spots someone with something of interest-- clothing she doesn't recognize, a bit of technology (she comes from a medieval world, after all) she's never seen before, it doesn't matter. She walks up, eyes wide, and speaks in a gentle, friendly tone.

"Oh, what's that? We don't got it where I'm from."

B. Training Center | OTA

That's a lot of knives. Lavellan goes over to the table on instinct, and begins, well, fiddling with them. An observer will notice that she's clearly worked with knives before, from her ease handling them. She begins spinning them, stops, puts them down, picks up a new pair... eventually, she throws it toward a target.

She misses by a wide margin, and the knife skitters dangerously near whoever was observing earlier. She rushes over, swearing. "Shit, sorry. Trying to find a pair better balanced-- well. You got all your toes?"

C. Floor 4 | District 4 Folks

Lavellan is standing in the common room by the light switch. She flicks it off. She flicks it on again. She flicks it off once more. She's watching for the source of the light, and she'll do this several times if no one stops her. Eventually, she might press her hands to the wall, feeling around for something, before going back to the light and fiddling with it again.

I hope you weren't trying to read or something.

D. Wherever | Canonmates Only

Due to the peculiarities of Lavellan's canon, she knows what her canonmates look like, but they don't know what she looks like. Thus, canonmates, feel free to describe what your character is doing, wherever they are, and I'll have her bug them. I'm pretty flexible and have no problem reacting to whatever you throw at me. If you'd like more of a prompt than this, just say. Thanks!

Comments

b.

[somewhatfallenfortune]

The training center has been mentioned to Josephine more than once by now--and by different people. When she makes her way down there, it's nothing she expects...but then, she doesn't have much more frame of reference

She's looking for the less combat-oriented areas, but getting to them involves walking past the knives...and a dark-haired Dalish woman who sends one flying near her.

"Inqui--" she begins to say, a sickly mix of warmth and worry mingling in her chest. But a closer look at the woman stops her. Similar tattoos, similar colouring, but not Inquisitor Lavellan. "Ah. Forgive me; I mistook you for someone else. I don't think you've cut anything off."

[darmisu]

She sighs a little. She was hoping Josephine, at least, would remember her, but apparently not. She picks up the knife and idly spins it in her hand while she talks. "No, I'm Inquisitor, but there's some weird magic shit going on. Ask Dorian about it."

[somewhatfallenfortune]

Josephine realizes after a moment or two that she's staring, specifically at the knife in the Inquisitor's hand. While she's hardly an expert in weaponry, she can't remember ever seeing the Inquisitor--her Inquisitor--toying with a blade that wasn't nearly as long as she was tall.

"Perhaps we should be reintroduced, then," Josephine answers, stepping primly over the last knife the Inquisitor threw. "Since I suspect you aren't called Thayes."

[darmisu]

"Thayes?" Oh, Creators. "Keeper sent her in front of me? I mean, not that-" Thayes is alright, but Lavellan can't see her doing real well out of a familiar environment. She sighs and shakes her head. "She's from my clan. But- sorry, I'm Larro. Everyone just calls me Inquisitor Lavellan, these days."

[somewhatfallenfortune]

Josephine presses her lips together. Fond though she is of Inquisitor Lavellan (the other one), she can imagine various ways that sentence might have ended. The poor woman had seemed likely to trip over her oown feet when the Inquisition began.

"And what would you prefer I called you, your Worship?" She's not quite teasing, but there's a slightly playful lilt to her voice, as though she realizes your Worship might not be the answer.

[darmisu]

She's gotten used to the 'your worship' angle, as long as people don't, you know, actually worship. The bowing thing still creeps her out. "Whatever you want. Don't wanna make you uncomfortable." And it's a good way to know what this one is expecting of her.

[somewhatfallenfortune]

Luckily, Josephine has no intention of bowing. Her own opinions aside, worshiping someone she has to work with daily is an untenable proposition. "I doubt you will. Inquisitor." The title is deliberate, an indication of her choice. "When did you arrive?"

[darmisu]

A deliberate indication is all she wants. Let's keep things professional, eh? She can do that. "Not two days ago, by my reckoning. You?"

[somewhatfallenfortune]

More like until you indicate otherwise, professional seems like the safest option. This isn't the Inquisitor she knew, and she knows better than to expect the tentative species of camaraderie they'd begun to fall into.

(Josephine and Larro might find themselves unwittingly attempting to outwait each other, at this rate.)

"Three." Much of them spent observing and, as best she could manage, investigating. "What do you think of it?"

[darmisu]

She grew up in a forest; waiting games are pretty common, if not enjoyable. She falls into it easily. "Can't say, I just got here. Not my ideal vacation, though." She shrugs, a roll of her arms. "You seen the fights, yet?"

She assumes Josephine has been brought in some advisory capacity. Why would they have her fight? Do they enjoy wanton slaughter that much?

[somewhatfallenfortune]

"No. I understand they finished one just before I arrived." Her expression grows a little less certain. The subject of the arenas has grown darker and more unpleasant by the day; every time she turns around, it seems, she learns something new and horrifying about the battles they'll face. "That's why I've come down here. It will take some time to familiarize myself with...this."

She gestures across the knives, as well as the ropes, spears, and everything else laid out for use.