[IC/OOC] Contact

[wheretheferngrows]

 

sending crystal | letters and notes | in-person visits

To contact Fern IC: Leave a response to this entry specifying the means of contact (e.g., sending crystal, in person visit, etc.) To contact me OOC: Discord:  middlemarching#9936 Plurk:  ragweed NB:  I work 9-5pm EST Mon-Fri, have additional volunteer obligations, and write fiction in my free time.

Comments

haring 18;

[thunderproof]

It's been a while since Adalia's seen Fern in the library. They never really got close after their initial introduction — Adalia might send Charis over to bother Fern if she looked particularly frustrated with something, but she didn't go over herself after that first day — but Adalia is in the library enough to note when the people who should be there are not. She's not particularly concerned — people have lives, and Fern never seemed all that pleased about having to do all her studying anyway, maybe she just decided to stop — but she is a little disappointed. Even if she hadn't talked to Fern since that first time she'd sat across from her, she'd kind of always expected she would, one day, and that Fern would be there to be talked to.

That's why, when Adalia looks up from a book and sees Fern sitting a few tables away, she can't help but smile. This time, she won't waste a second. Adalia quietly closes her book and gathers all her things, turning to Charis to raise her finger to her lips to let him know to be quiet, and then she creeps up on Fern. Slowly. Silently. Like a cat. Charis copies her, taking slow, careful steps.

They slide abruptly into Fern's line of sight, smiling brightly —

"Well, look who's come back! I thought you'd —" The smile dims quickly once Adalia's gotten a look at Fern's face, and she trails off without finishing her sentence. That is not the face of a person who needs a high-energy half-elf yelling about how she's been missing for a few weeks. That is the face of someone who needs a hug.

Adalia's not sure she's the right person to be giving any hugs, but she can't just ignore Fern now. She sets her books and papers on the table and crouches next to Fern's seat. Charis chitters nervously and raises onto his hind legs, nosing at Fern's arm.

"What happened, Fern?"

[wheretheferngrows]

All things considered, Fern is doing better than she was. At least she's back at the Gallows now, rather than hiding away in Araceli and Korrin's apartment ignoring the rest of the world. (Ignoring probably isn't the right word, but life has felt hard, lately.) The sudden frigid storm that has blown into Kirkwall has given her plenty of work to keep her mind occupied and away from more melancholy thoughts; there have even been some moments of frivolity, though they always seem short-lived.

Now she's back at her studies in the library, frowning in concentration as she mouths out loud the words on the page written in front of her--but when Adalia and Charis slide into view, she looks up at them and tries to smile. Tries, being the operative word; but judging by how Adalia responds, how Charis noses at her arm, she's not that successful.

"What happened, Fern?"

"Oh," Fern starts softly, and, as these things have a way of doing sometimes, even starting to give voice to the thoughts brings a rush of moisture to her eyes. She swallows hard and reaches for a little white kerchief that she's kept tucked into her tunic pocket for this very reason, wipes at her eyes hastily. "I... I lost someone, not long ago. A friend. Sina," she adds, chewing her lower lip.

Just a friend. A dear, dear friend, who had cared for her, had let Fern kiss her softly, just the once, before she died. The hadn't had time to be anything else.

[thunderproof]

Adalia never met this Sina person, but they've clearly had a strong influence on Fern's life. It's strange; Adalia has had more conversations about death and dead loved ones in Thedas than she ever did in Faerûn. Mat and Akrasiel had died, sure, but they never really stopped to discuss it — it never felt like there was time, and she didn't want to hear them castigate her for the gift she had given them, bartered for with own soul. But here... people have time to linger. They care, in ways Adalia has tried her utmost not to.

For a long moment, Adalia remains silent, crouched next to Fern's seat. Charis noses more insistently at Fern's elbow, and then drops back down to the ground, only to crawl over to her legs and start attempting to climb into her lap.

"I'm not very good at comfort," Adalia says eventually, her voice full of genuine remorse. "I don't have any words that might relieve you of your pain, I don't think. Sorry doesn't cut it, even if I really truly am."

She has no wise words of wisdom, nor experience to draw on for advice. She can listen, but who wants to talk about something so terrible? All Adalia has to offer is herself and Charis, and they're poor consolation prizes to true friends.

"I have an idea, if you'd like a distraction. Your studying can wait, but maybe you'd like a reminder the world can be fun and full of nice things still, even without Sina in it?"

Poor consolation, but still on offer, because she's here. She's got to be better than nothing.

[wheretheferngrows]

For a moment Fern almost looks wounded--she doesn't want to even remember the world without Sina in it--but however the words sting, the simple kindness offered by Adalia's presence, even when she knows that comfort isn't her forte, is enough to bring a little smile to Fern's face.

She drops her hand down to gently stroke the top of Charis' cool, scaly head, then peers at Adalia, curious. "What kind of distraction?" she asks.

[thunderproof]

"A really freaking cool one," Adalia promises. "But I think it'd be better as a surprise."

She stands up and comes around the back of Fern's chair to pull it out for her, pausing a moment to lean down and wrap her arms around Fern's shoulders.

"I really am sorry," she says, her voice soft, and Charis rises up on his hind legs to nuzzle at Fern's cheek, cooing. Neither of them is particularly built for quiet moments of grief, but they're doing their best for Fern, and hopefully that's enough.

action

[keenly]

They haven't spoken too much in the weeks since they started rooming together. This morning, Colin has woken up a little late and is in a rush, hurriedly piling blankets on the bed and pulling on an overtunic. His hair is an absolute mess, and that's the next thing he starts working on, gently, with his fingers, before starting to yank it all into a single braid.

On the bed, his pillow is askew, revealing a very large chef's knife, about a quarter-inch unsheathed from the night's tossing and turning.

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern's naturally chatty and precocious nature has taken a back seat to grief--and other awkwardness--over the past month. She's kept to herself, save for the occasional outing with Adalia, and kept occupied with her training under Nell and the beginnings of her lessons learning about the Dalish with Beleth and Sorrel. She spends a lot of time with her mule, Rooster, and her unlikely friend, Simon--a templar.

She also tends to enjoy sleeping in on select mornings, and so all of the racket that Colin is making as he rushes about hither and thither in their shared quarters ultimately earns him a somewhat annoyed scowl from Fern, as her head of messy hair re-emerges from her cocoon of blankets. "Do you have to make so much noise--" she's in the process of groggily snapping at this silly shemlen--

--when she spots the enormous bloody chef's knife protruding from beneath his pillow. She stares at it, eyes widening, and then looks from it to Colin, then back again. shit. is he a murderer? .....he's definitely a murderer.

[keenly]

Colin looks back at her, waving an apologetic hand. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just. Late." His hair is already halfway out of its braid but he makes time to do a double take at her terrified face. And follows her gaze to the...

Oh, is that all?

"Sorry," he says again, sweeping toward the bed to arrange the pillow back on top of the knife. "Sorry, we'll put that...there, it's fine, it's just a precaution, you know how things go."

He has seen her hanging around that templar. Can't be too careful.

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern is now sitting bolt upright in her nest of blankets--some of which she has yanked up to her chest in an effort to preserve her, uh, modesty--but her look of wide-eyed anxiety now gives way to incredulity. Just in case?

"Just in case of what?" she blurts out. Still holding the blankets up around her chest, she fumbles for her tunic and, somehow, manages to pull it over her nightshirt without getting the blanket stuck between two layers of fabric in the process. "I'm the only other one in here!"

[keenly]

"Sorry," he says again, because he can't say that enough, he really doesn't want to say it too few times. "It's just..."

It would make sense if he told her about being in the Circle, but he's not telling people about the Circle. He's not a mage anymore, except in the sense where his connection to the Fade is magical and not severed and he's prone to weird demon nightmares. Those are all a lot of symptoms, though, not a label. He stops what he's doing, huffs out a breath, and slows down. Sits on the bed. His mind races, trying to come up with a suitable lie that won't freak her out more than she's already freaked out. The mage thing is ruled out by default. Spent time in jail? No way.

"I just...feel weird, in this place. I grew up as a kid on the streets in Denerim and you had to be careful who might sneak around when you're asleep. I mean I know you're not going to nick anything, but anyone can come through that door." A pause, then more pleadingly, "Old habits?"

Complete bullshit, of course, and he'll have to remember to keep telling this lie going forward, but he doesn't want to spook her more than she has already been spooked by the crazy man who sleeps with a knife.

Crystal

[justice_is_blond]

Hello, Fern.

[His voice is gentle.]

How are you doing?

[wheretheferngrows]

[She activates the crystal quickly enough, but it takes some time before she replies.]

Better, [said softly, a bit warmly; she recognizes Anders.] Thanks for asking. How's, um. [What was her name--] How's Buggy?

[justice_is_blond]

I'm glad to hear it. Buggy is doing well. She's feeling a little bit of cabin fever - she can't fly when it's this cold out due to risk of her wings freezing up - but I'm exercising her on the ground as much as possible.

I... was wondering if you were up for a gathering. I know things have been rough lately.

[He'd been the main healer trying to help Sina, he'd seen many of her visitors and he'd seen Fern the night Sina passed, too. Anders absolutely doesn't want to rush her.]

[wheretheferngrows]

['Rough'; yes, she guesses that's as good a word for it as anything else. Rough, and incredibly awkward, now that Finch is back... though she's been as careful as possible to avoid bringing him up at all.]

What sort of gathering? [It sounds like it could be a good distraction, if nothing else.]

[justice_is_blond]

One of non-Loyalist mages, for food, drink, and support. We don't... really have structure and that's a good thing, but we could use a community and I'd like to see one form. All of us could use knowing that they're not alone.

[Especially when it's cold out. Especially especially when they've lost someone precious.]

action

[tagartist]

Chloe had realized that she wasn't entirely sure how to find Fern to thank her for taking care of her when she'd found her in a less than great state. The sleeping aids were finally helping, at least making Chloe feel a little bit more well rested if nothing else. While things were strange still and she knew she wasn't feeling well yet, the bags under her eyes were slowly starting to at least become less prominent as she managed to get a couple full nights of rest.

The hyperfocusing hadn't changed too much, but it seemed to have shifted focus to something she was more familiar with; she'd managed to get ahold of some charcoal and something that was close enough to paper for her to start drawing again. Art wasn't her first love by any means, but it was a strong enough one that she had ended up with fingers black as night and smudges on her face and arms before too long. She had rolled up one particular drawing when she had finished it, deciding that she was going to bring it to the elf who had made her night a little bit more bearable.

The only place she could hope she'd show up though was the herb garden she'd found her in, so she had sort of... loitered, waiting to see if she would spot her, sighing in relief when she finally did because it meant she wasn't just hanging out like a creep for no reason. She had stepped forward relatively quickly, so that she didn't lose her nerve.

"Uh - hey. Remember me? I asked you to kill me, put my foot in my mouth immediately after."

[wheretheferngrows]

The herb garden is a bit of a barren place this time of year, but for anyone with any familiarity with plants, it's clear that despite the cold, the dead-looking plants in the ground are still wick. While some plants are hardy and good at surviving the frigid Kirkwall winters, others come from foreign lands, and require a bit of help--which is where Fern comes in.

She's kneeling beside a patch of broad-leaved plants, carefully inscribing a warming glyph into the soil just above its roots, when she hears footsteps behind her. She looks over her shoulder and brightens rather immediately and un-self-consciously to see Chloe. (That's a good sign, right? Being happy to see her?)

"Chloe," she greets her, beaming, "you look like you're feeling much better." All said brightly as she starts up to her feet, dusting dirt from her gloves onto the front of an old apron that looks like it's seen better days. Smiling, she looks almost at a loss for what to say for a moment, before quizzically taking note of the rolled up bit of something in Chloe's... rather smudged-looking hands. "What's that?"

[tagartist]

"Yeah, that's - cool." That she remembered, she meant, though clarification has never been her strong suit. "I am. I mean, a little, I guess. The sleep stuff is helping a lot." But that wasn't the point. She wasn't here to talk about how much better she was feeling really, was she? Maybe. Sort of. A little.

What's that? "Shit, right." The real reason she'd come by, more important she figured than her health. She quickly went to offer the paper out to her, probably thrusting it out a little too quickly so it didn't look like the kind of casual, 'this isn't a big deal' kind of moment she had wanted to make it out to be. Crap. Why was she so nervous? "It's for you. I wanted to say thank you for your help and for, like... listening and... whatever. I don't know. It was just hella cool of you so I wanted to just do something in return, even though this isn't super helpful or anything. Kind of useless, even, maybe I should've just - gotten you like pruning sheers or something - I -"

Fuck, she's rambling. She shuts herself up with a cringe. "... Sorry. I guess I'm still a little out of it after all."

[wheretheferngrows]

"Oh, good," she says and clasps her hands together before herself, "It's the valerian root that does it, you know, my ma' used to put it in my tea when I was ill all the time growing up. I'd hoped," a pause, and her eyes dart to the side, before back to Chloe's face again, her cheeks tinged a bit pink. "I'd hoped it would help."

(It is much, much easier to speak about plants and herbs and teas that put sick rifters to sleep, than it is to think about the sudden knot of feeling Fern gets in her stomach whenever Chloe looks at her like that. Like Fern is certain she herself must have looked at Sina, not so long ago, when they sat together in the Chantry forest.)

Then, "It's for you," Chloe says, and the roll of paper is thrust out towards her, and Fern takes hold of it reflexively lest she inadvertently drop it to the cold dirt. There are lots of other words that accompany the impromptu gift, of course, and she hears them, but the look on her face as she unrolls the paper and takes in the sight of the artwork upon it is a bit like someone lighting a candle in a dark room. Fern brightens, the awkwardness leaving her smile, and she turns a bit to hold it so that the sunlight can shine upon it and bring out some of the detail hidden in the shadow.

...Sorry. I guess I'm still a little out of it after all--"

"This is so lovely!" Fern speaks over her, without meaning to, and quickly gives her an apologetic look, before her attention is drawn to the charcoal work again... which she holds with the tips of her dirty, gloved fingers to avoid messing any of it up. "Is this where you come from, in your world?"

[tagartist]

Her ma'. The way she says it makes a small smile twitch at Chloe's lips, even if the idea of mothers makes her stomach twist up in knots for a moment, a feeling she swallows quickly because she wants to hold on to the light heartedness of Fern getting tea that helped her sleep when she was sick and that she'd extend that same kindness to others now, even when she didn't know them. "It did help. I mean, I assume it's what helped. It didn't hurt, anyway."

She had seen her uncurling it, watched her vaguely as she'd talked, the way she smiled and turned, and maybe that was what had stopped her from rambling in the first place, but the compliment still throws her. She can feel her usual desire to downplay her own talents creep up, the sooted hand reaching up to rub the back of her neck a little bashfully, getting black streaks on her skin in the process without really thinking about it.

Your world. It's such a weird phrase to hear. "Yeah. That's good ol' Arcadia Bay. Or, well, one of the undeveloped lands near it. There's nothing that pretty actually in town."

crystal, after the sickness.

[dashing]

Serah Doirnáin? This is Knight Enchanter Amsel. I realise we've not spoken in a while, but I wondered if you might be free to discuss a matter that I think may be of some interest.

[wheretheferngrows]

[startled, the sound of someone fumbling with their sending crystal, clearing her throat,]

Um, yes, of course! How can I help with--what is it you wanted to talk about?

[dashing]

( She waits a moment to continue, to ensure Fern is composed. )

It is a matter of... some discretion, at the present moment. I am hoping to begin some work to assist some of the more disadvantaged residents of Kirkwall.

[wheretheferngrows]

['More disadvantaged'? That sounds like code for 'elves,' to Fern, who at first bristles at having a shem bring this to her attention--before she remembers a bit more about Herian's circumstances. Ah, right.]

You mean in the alienage? [she asks a little hesitantly. Then,] I really don't know what help I'd be but--but yes, I'd love to try to help. If that's what you need from me, I mean.

[dashing]

Primarily the alienage, but... if there were those in Darktown we could assist as well, I think that would be a worthy cause. People in both places are trapped by circumstance. I... though the elves are my priority, I do not think it would be right to disregard the people of Darktown.

I have hopes to provide some opportunities to help people feel and become gradually less restricted. Reading and writing lessons, perhaps linking them with persons in the Inquisition who may be willing to offer apprenticeships, arranging opportunities to learn some skills that can help. I... I know that elven-blooded though I am, I am still a human. I do not wish to embark on this as a human charitably informing people how they can live their lives better, but approach it as— as an opportunity to grant them more freedom and power. It cannot resolve all the ills of the world and all the disadvantage elves and those born to poverty face, but—

( But it would be a step. It would be something. She wants to do this right. )