Participants:

Alexia_icon.gif Carys_icon.gif Taril_icon.gif

Scene Title Afterparty In Darktown
Synopsis Participants in the Lowtown battle meet the animal sitter in the clinic.
Location Darktown Clinic
Date July 22, 2016
Watch For Baby Bears!
Logger Taril

Taril isn't an uncommon sight in the clinic, really. What IS an uncommon sight is the collection of young dogs, the old hyena and old wolf pair (which seem to be besties), a cage full of rabbits, some deepstalker hatchlings (and a partridge in a pear tree). Also out of place is the little nest of blankets on the floor near a cage that is open, in which the hunter sits cradling a bear cub that appears to be on the edge of the decision between live and die while the elf feeds it. Best to not look at the mixture he's using, it's icky.

The hour? Fucking late, that's what it is. It's fucking late.

By this time, there's a chance the fiasco in Lowtown has spread. Something about Golems and Darkspawn and crumbling buildings. Of course, considering how gossip spreads… it's probably ten times exaggerated by now. However, it's that gossip that is the cause of the Clinic's newest visitor. She shows up in the doorway carrying an armful of blankets, with perhaps some articles of clothings ticking from it, with a couple of pillows balanced on top, with what seems to be several tins and bottles that smell suspiciously like sweets and liquor if one walks past her balanced precariously on /that/. And all that's seen from behind this is a riot of dark brown curls that is of the 'I just washed and toweled my hair sloppily' kind, the hem of a chamise, bare legs that have bruises of a 'pelted repeatedly by rocks' flavor and slip-on shoes.

This weird Blanket-Curl Monstrosity turns slightly so that she can look past what is a pillow tassel. 'Nugroast' is eyed because she can see him. "This /is/ the clinic still, right?" She asks with a roughened voice. Dust from Rubble is horrible on the vocal cords yanno.

Taril has heard none of this, but that's because he's been focused on every three hour feedings and that takes its toll on a person's brain. "Wha..? Oh, yeah. These are temporary until I can find a way to get them to where they should be. Except these guys." He indicates the two bear cubs- one cradled in his lap and looking much worse for wear and the other sleeping beside his leg in a better state of health. "Anders told me to bring them here after… After the guy who had them wasn't around anymore."

Oh, this seems to be the set of days to push Carys's 'not happy' buttons. Yes, she possess those. Busting on weaker things is one of them, and baby animals definitely falls in that. "I hope he's in pieces," she croaks sourly as she wanders over to a spare corner. She's mindful of the animals, not wanting to disturb them. Her handful of stuff is set down and she moves over to grab a spare cot and slide it over. She does have a 'recently washed' look about her, but it really does look like she bathed grabbed the nearest thing that would cover her torso and tossed it on, stuck her feet in something resembling shoes and grabbed her stuff and came here.

"Or in one big piece in a sewer," Taril offers as he scoops another offering of the goop to the cub on his lap. Apparently he's taken it upon himself to be mammabear for now. "At least the dogs can find a home and the cats can probably fend for themselves once I've made sure they're not starving. The deepstalkers…" He nose-wrinkles. "I know where I can let them loose. They can fend for themselves from the time they hatch as long as they stay in a herd." He glances over at Carys. "You look like you rolled in the laundry and wore whatever stuck. Something happen?"

The animals are eyed again, now that she's not got arms full of literally the entirety of her belongings. Not that Taril knows that yet. Hands rest on her hips and she uses one foot to scratch at the calf of her other leg, completely ignoring the fact this is probably not the most ladylike way of maneuvering when one is stanidng in an undershirt. "I can… try to help. Maybe. I'unno." She then blinks and answers oh so conversationally, like she was commenting on how humid Kirkwall is in the summer, or that Darktown smells, "My house is rubble."

"The others aren't so badly off. They just need regular food and water." Taril gestures toward the rabbits. "We have enough to feed them for a while. …creators, your house? How did that happen? I mean, most of the structures are heading that way, but the worst are usually empty and I didn't hear an explosion." He was concentrating on a baby bear, so…

Carys might have slipped into a slight state of post-adrenaline shock. That kind of state where a person just kind of moves automatically, while the mind processes what happened. "Dwarves exploded," she answers sort of. "There were… darkspawn," she explains. "I don't know why, but there were a lot. And demons. And …" She liftsa hand to rub at her forehead as she mutters 'dwarves' again. There's a shake of her head. "I don't recall specifics of that…" She was kind of /really freaking pissed/ at the time and that's likely hindering her ability to remember exactly what happened. "They weren't normal, though," she says of them. Obviously. Because they exploded. "Whatever they did kind'a rattled the buildin' they were on. Which, incidentally, happened t'have been the one where I called home. So now, it's rubble. An' I'm campin' out here 'cause no one's a snitch here."

And just like that, she sets about using the cot and her gathered bed clothes to make a, you guessed it, blanket fort for her to occupy.

Taril had been in the process of stifling a yawn while wiping the bear's face with a cloth, but that's gotten his attention. "Demons and darkspawn? Exploding Dwarves?" He starts to look disappointed to have missed this, but then there's a yawning, stretching babybear and that hard, could-care-less exterior is gone and if he dared? He'd hug the thing. "Where did they come from? I know there are a lot of questionable holes in Darktown, plus the sewers, but… nothing that looks like it'd be a path for that sort of thing."

Grabbing a blanket and settling on one of her pillows, she turns to face Taril and… d'awwww. Okay, that is adorable. This is what she needs. Carys already extended the help offer so it doesn't come again, she'll just sit here and soak up the cute. "I dunno," she answers. "They followed the golem." Yup, again with the 'Oh nice weather' tone. LIke Golems being chased by darkspawn and demons is a regular thing in Kirkwall.

"Golem?" He looks up again, eyebrows raised. "Was the Golem chasing a dragon? Because this list just keeps getting more and more interesting. Weren't golems meant to fight darkspawn, anyway? I didn't think they had the … I don't know… personality? to run away. I really did miss some party, didn't I?"

"Oh, this one had /lots/ of personality. It was downright /sassy/," says Carys as she rubs her forehead as if thinking about the evening was giving her a migraine. "Sassier than the mage who kept making Cenn blush, even." She pauses. "There was a lotta sass. But no, no dragon. That would've been too much, yanno?" She finally quirks a semblance of her usual grin, but…ugh. She's sore. Being tossed off of roofs and onto cute guys who swing around huge chunks of metal isn't as comfortable as it should be.

Taril at least doesn't look like he thinks Carys is having him on. "A golem. With a personality. …and sass." He might be jealous, but he has a baby bear in his lap so he's already had a better night than everyone. "A mage making people blush… I thought mages couldn't just wander free. Don't they have to hide here?" Not that he doesn't think it's stupid, but it's the way humans do things. He considers the bear again and then settles it into a dip in the blankets and covers it up. "He should sleep for a while. You want some tea? I can make it. I think there might be some stew left." Rabbits, man. They're useful.

"Oh, tea would be lovely." She digs in her fort and hands him a small bottle. "Put this in it would you?" It's Brandy. Old brandy. she likely stole it because it looks way too expensive for someone who's now living out of a blanket fort in the corner of a free clinic in Darktown to have. "He…didn't sound like he's from around here. Davan… I think I caught his name? But that's it. Wasn't an accent I was familiar with," 'cause she doesn't interactw ith Tevinters, see.

Taril catches the bottle and raises an eyebrow, but the grin gives away the fact that he completely understands. "Sure," he checks the cub one more time and then stands. "Well, we have some people from Tevinter here. Might be one of them." He shrugs it off as he goes off to pour and mix the tea. His own is plain and, as soon as both are poured, he takes the cup and bottle back to Carys. "Once the cubs can be left for more than a few hours at a time, I might go have a look to see if I can figure out where those things came from. As long as I don't find more."

She takest he tea cup with a 'Oh please tell me you made the toddy strong', and she takes a deep breath of the steam from the cup. "Tahnk you," Carys offers, her words radiating warmth and that warmth managing to find it's way back into her smile and expression albeit in an exhausted sort of way. Because she's exhausted. "It figgers," she says as she puts her bottle away and sips her tea, a nod of appreciation again given, "Darkspawn show up an' not a damn Grey Warden in sight." She frowns for a moment and her fingers drum against the cup. "Never seen such before," she admits quietly. So perhaps she's rattled by more than just getting tossed off her own roof and finding herself homeless (because she's used to /that/ at least).

Taril nods as he settles on his blankets. "We have a few of them, I wonder why none… I mean, unless they didn't know. I suppose that's possible, but Wardens are supposed to know. Besides, why would we have that many? The blight's over and Kirkwall was pretty protected. I mean, it's always got a 'something rotten on the inside' feel, but it used to be part of the slave trade. It's bound to have." Now excuse him while he checks cub #2 and settles the more robust beastie into his lap for its feeding. This one is a little more aggressive and simply eats from the bowl as he holds it.

Carys is again rubbing her forehead like she's trying to force her mind to focus. "The dwarves were… lookin' for someone. Kept talkin' about how 'she' wasn't comin'. I dunno… They were talkin', I got pissed… so I guess I stopped listenin'." She taps her forehead. "What was it they said… dammit." Brain, work!

"She? Well, it can't be one of their females. They're not supposed to be able to move… at least I don't think so. We don't have a lot of stories about them that don't involve 'don't go down there and run if they come up here'." Taril shrugs. "And then they just blew up? Or did they make themselves blow up? Mothers! That's what they're called. Broodmothers." Pause. "At least I think. I mean, I may have listened in on a few conversations here and there. Maybe listened in on the Keeper discussing things with people who visited. …and I maybe read a few things I shouldn't have." Nothing definite, though! So he totally can't be in trouble over it. "Besides, if they're surface dwarves, what would they know about what's down there?"

Carys is holding her hands up. " Nono… and I don't know. They were pale and…ghastly," she says. "An' when I cut one, it…did this weird oozing haze… an' the other one mimicked it." She takes another drink of her tea. "They mentioned an…ARchitect? Of somethin'. An' a Lady… but damned if I can remember what the /rest/ of the names those had right now."

Taril wrinkles his nose. "Oozing haze? Maybe I'm glad I missed that. The last time something that oozed anything was within five feet of me the ground disappeared." He shakes his head and then reaches up to his neck take hold of something that isn

Taril wrinkles his nose. "Oozing haze? Maybe I'm glad I missed that. The last time something that oozed anything was within five feet of me the ground disappeared." He shakes his head and then reaches up to his neck take hold of something that isn't there anymore. "Lady… Well, if there's an architect coming, maybe he can fix your house!" Taril's jokes, folks. The reaching hand falls to rest on the cub's back and he runs his fingers over the fur. "The last lady I heard mentioned underground had nothing to do with dwarves, so I have no guesses."

"Maybe someone else who was there that wasn't royally pissed when those names were mentioned can actually recall 'em," Carys says. ANd then she finds a small pillow and chucks it at Taril's head for his bad joke. She will, however /wait/ until he's await from sleeping animal babies before this happens. She is considerate if a bit scatterbrained. And yes, Carys is in a literal blanket fort made up of her meager possessions and a spare cot. In a corner that isn't anywhere near animals. "I don't think the /Maker/ could fix my house," she grumbles, crossing her arms and looking utterly petulant. "Damned dwarves're glad my chocolate didn't get smooshed completely." Cause, y'know, priorities.

Alexia knocks twice on the outside doorjamb, as a signal to anyone inside that she is there. "May I come in?" she asks softly, that Orlesian accent too prominent to be missed.

Taril laughs and tosses the pillow back. "I'll ask around. Someone has to have heard something and I can never let it go when I'm curious." At least not unless it would hurt someone else, because he's definitely let those times drop. But then there's that knock and he stands to push open the door- since it's late and he was surprised that Carys had shown up. "If you're lookin' for the healer, he's sleepin' and I'm not gonna wake him up unless you're dying." At least it's not unkindly said, just in that tone that lets it be known that he's not changing his mind.

Carys lets the return throw bounce off her head. Because she's working on draining that teacup. That's set aside and she goes for that expensive looking brandy bottle and works on upending /that/. And Alexia knocks! "OH hey, she was there," Carys points towards the Guardswoman helpfully. She waves here. Hi.

Alexia doesn't /look/ like a Guardsman. Her tunic and leggings, while of good quality, are clearly fairly old, and her green cloak has been replaced by a longer and fuller red one. Only her weapons are the same. Even then a Guard device has been attached to her belt. "Non, I do not require healing. I was just checking up on someone whom it was said I could find here." She smiles and returns Carys's wave. "Hello again. You are well? Or at least unharmed?" she asks kindly.

Taril gestures toward the clinic's interior. "C'mon in. Just, you know, not too loud. he needs his sleep and too much'll get the animals going." Speaking of animals, it's time to make sure they all have water and are at least comfortable (and alive, because their previous conditions were lacking). "I've got tea made if you want some. I just got up a little while ago to feed the bears." Yes. Bears.

Carys nods to Alexia. "Eh, about as fine as someone' gettin' knocked off'a crumblin' building can be," she says with a weary grin. "My chocolate didn't get smooshed so there's that." She pauses and then asks, concern evident in her own voice, "YOu? You didn't get hurt much? You were smackin' around more than I was." She lifts her hand to let Taril know she's still here if he needs assistnace with feeding and watering stuff.

"Non, but thank you. It is kind of you to offer," Alexia replies, following the red-haired man inside. She is careful to keep her voice low and her footsteps as quiet as she can. Finding Carys's resting place, she kneels on the floor just within arms' reach of the woman inside the blanket fort, the better to keep out of the way of the elvish man and his furry charges. "Mostly soreness of body and limbs… I did a lot of pushing and pulling against those things, for all the good it did. And one of them bled on me to boot. Zut alors, what a mess… I had to burn my clothing, and my armor still isn't cleaned off yet. It took an hour just to get the worst off of the plates of my belts, so I could wear them. It will probably be morning before I can get a new surcoat."

She looks at Carys more thoughtfully. "Is that a blanket fort?"

Taril makes the rounds with the water, stopping to give each of the dogs an affectionate scratch behind the ears before moving to the deepstalker hatchlings (By the way, have you looked at those things close up? Ergh). Once it's all done he checks the door to make sure it's secure and goes back to his blanket nest and bear cubs. Apparently staying away from either one of them for too long is a no. "I think I'm glad I missed all the excitement now that I've heard about it. Exploding dwarves and demons… and the rest." He's had enough weird shit. He's REALLY had enough weird shit.

Carys nods to Alexia as she hears about the preemptive measures taken to deal with Darkspawn leftovers on one's belongings. "Yeah, I hear you," she says about that. Her nose wrinkles for a moment then she asks, "D'you remember those names the dwarves said? I kind'a zoned out during that time." Because something hit a beserk button and she literally climbed walls to try to make with stabbity death. And then at Alexia's last question? With as much gravity as a situation ten times more serious than what is presented here, she answers, "Yes. Yes it is." And she scoots further into it as if using the blankets as if emphasizing the necessity of having a blanket fort.

"The Architect of the Works of Beauty… the Lady of the Broken Chains… something like those names, I think. They made no sense to me then, and no more now. And someone else… someone unnamed. A woman, who was not there when they came," Alexia recalls, her eyes growing distant for a moment. "I don't even know who or what those strange dwarves were. They match nothing I have ever heard of anywhere. But you seemed beyond enraged at them. I could hear you shouting, before you attacked them." She shivers. "If you had been my enemy then, I would have backed down, I think. Why did they affect you so?"

She stifles a giggle as Carys scoots further into the blanket fort. "Fear not, ma petite… I shall not lay siege to your mighty fortress," she teases gently, before looking over at Taril and his bear cubs, stifling another giggle. "You take such good care of those cubs. I'd no idea there were animals here before now. And I agree; you should be glad you missed it."

Taril looks up at that mention. 'Of beauty… Nah, can't be." Still, he thinks it over as he runs his fingers over the smaller cub's fur, testing the area over his ribs out of habit due to the thing's thinness. The sturdier cub finishes off the last of the contents of the bowl and curls up with an ursine burp. Again, the elf picks up a cloth, cleaning the second cub's face before leaving it to its sleep. "I've heard something about a Priest of Beauty, but that can't be the same, can it?" He gives his head a shake and settles in to watch the cubs. "Another reason I'm glad I wasn't born a mage. There's no way I could keep all of it straight in my head." He glances over at Carys, waiting for her answer and seeming more than just passingly interested.

Carys wrinkles her nose slightly at the names and she just shakes her head as she takes another long pull off of the brandy. She tilts her head slightly though at Taril. "Any insight?" And then… Alexia asks that.

"Hngh," she grumbles as Alexia asks her question. "They pissed me off," she mutters. Of course, that's not what Alexia's asking, really. She's quiet and she /tries/ to put it into words. "They seemd t'have lured those… /things/," The Darkspawn, the demons, the Abomination, maybe even the golemn, "With the intention, it seems, t'use the fight t'draw someone out. D'you know how many helpless people could'a been caught up in that? D'you know how many people likely /were/? People who can't defend themselves, people who don't know how. People who were jus' minding their own business when Maker knows what came down upon them an' ruined their night when their /lives/ already were pretty ruined. I /hate/ that," she's getting animated again, "People who don't care about those weaker'n smaller than them, tramplin' them like they're little more'n dirt. I don't care if they were tryin' t'get Andraste herself t'show, that was a shit tactic an' they deserved t'be cut up for it!" She huffs a bit and she realizes she might be sounding just a little more bloodthirsty than her character usually is, and she curls up with her brandy. "They exploded instead. An' took my home with 'em. Bastards." Grr.

Alexia looks to Taril, shaking her head. "I do not think they are the same, non. I suspect their idea of beauty and ours would be very different things." And then Carys seems to come to simmering life, and the redhead listens, head tilted to one side as Carys goes on about what she feels about the matter. "I understand," she says softly. "The Guard is tasked with protection of the people of this city. Your reasons are also mine. Clearly they wished someone to be there who was not."

She sighs quietly, seeming to sink into herself somewhat. "Too many are dead now. Many others wounded, who will likely die for lack of care," she says solemnly, her eyes slipping shut. "Whether for the whims of demons or merely being in a bad place at a worse time, it makes little difference in the end. And yet I was the only Guardsman to respond to the threat. No one else came. Why not? Where were they?" She sighs bitterly. "It is a very troubling thought that the Guard had no time for Lowtown and its people."

Taril shrugs. "I mean, it's horrible, but people die. The good news is that whatever those names were didn't show up. I imagine it'd be worse if they did." He's Dalish, his perspective of life and death isn't from a city dweller's point of view. "It shouldn't be that surprising," he says to Alexia. "Justice and safety are for those who can afford it. It's a strange way to run things, but if you see those down here as replaceable… and let's face it, they have plenty to go through before there's a scarcity."

Strangely enough, Carys lifts a shoulder. "Maybe they were gettin' assembled, I dunno," she mumbles. "I just…" She shakes her head. "I just don't like bullies. I don't like people wailin' on those weaker'n them an' can't fight back. Chain 'em down, oppress 'em." She then is quiet before she comments quietly, to Alexia. "Guard can't be everywhere. It isn't their fault." Her nose wrinkles a bit at Taril. "S'why I do what I do," is all she says, curling up in her comfy blankets and bottle of brandy. "Somebody's gotta look out for 'em." She indicates where said sleeping healer is with a tilt of her chin. "I'm just glad I'm not alone in it."

"Perhaps that is so, but I cannot agree with it," Alexia replies softly to Taril, her tone quietly bitter. "I joined the Guard because all I knew how to do is fight. But I came to agree with its mission, the protection of Kirkwall and its people. While accidents may happen and not every death may be prevented, it is still wrong that these creatures came here and slew so many, destroyed so much, for no good reason… really, for no /clear/ reason. More could have been done… /should/ have been done… to prevent such things."

She smiles sadly at Carys. "I admire your courage and your resolve. I regret that I cannot do what you do in the way that you do it. It makes me wish I could do more." Her fists clench. "I do not like bullies, either. In fact, I hate them very much." She speaks quietly, yet the tension in her clenched fists speaks of emotions barely restrained.

"Don't look my way. I'm supposed to be refraining from being involved and following all the humans' rules." Not that Taril has, obviously. "Definitely not supposed to interfere with the way things are run in the city or get the attention of the guard. That's why I bring things here and try to keep supplies up. …and maybe I've gotten in the way of a few nobles here and there trying to take advantage. Most of the time, we all look alike to them. Just another knife-ear. It gives me some freedom."

Alexia shivers at the term 'knife-ear'. "Please… don't say such things," she says, her voice soft and a bit shivery. "You are /not/ just something to be pushed aside, whipped, or killed… not now, not ever." she adds, hugging her elbows.

Taril chuckles. "Hey, I don't mind. I'm Dalish, the best thing that can happen to me in a place like this is to get lumped in with the rest of the knife-ears. The less those people up there see me as unique, the better." He takes a moment to pull a section of the blanket over the larger cub. "I can take care of myself, which is more than some of the flat-ears can say. But these things? That sounds like something I'm gonna be real glad I missed out on. Also sounds like something that's gonna happen again unless we beat it to the punch. I don't like the idea of a lot of people getting crushed in their houses. Not just because it's fewer for my clan to trade with, either. I think I'll have a talk with Anders once he's awake and go have a look to see if I can't find out where they came from."

"Just because things are the way they are does not mean that they are the way they should be," Alexia replies. "I see the wisdom in your words, even if I weep at the necessity for such things." She sighs to herself. "You are right to be glad that you missed it. There must be something that can be done to protect against future incursions like what happened last night. If only the Guard were more numerous… we could have larger patrols, even standing garrisons in the different districts. Anything would be better than what we have now."

Taril shakes his head. "You can ask for it, but you're not gonna get it. No one cares about anything below Hightown unless they live in it or those who do start to climb their way up. Better to let someone who's used to jumping in first and thinking about it after. Once we know where the entrances are that these things came through, then we can think about what to do about it. You can't prevent every mess, but you can make some damn good guesses."

Alexia sighs deeply, seeming to deflate a little. "I know. I hate it, but I know it," she murmurs. "Recruitment for the Guard is very low right now, and it does not seem like it will go up anytime soon. The job is a sad joke. I've considered quitting more than once, but I have no idea what I would do for a living if I did. All I know how to do is fight."

She looks at Taril thoughtfully. "Who is this Anders? I think I have heard that name, but I cannot recall where. If he can do something, then see him, by all means. And if you need help finding these places these darkspawn may come from, you need only ask. I will do what I can. After I have gotten the blood off of my armor, so I can wear it again."

"He's the healer who runs this place. He's a Warden, I guess. I mean, the other Wardens I've met say so, he's said so, but he doesn't seem to be part of their group. He takes care of the people down here, so I bring in whatever I can to help him keep doing that. It's not a big change from bringing in supplies for my clan or supplying our keeper with what she needs." Yeah, Taril just likened Anders to a Keeper. "I usually do better on my own, but I'll let you know. If anyone can find a hole to fall into, it's me." With or without the help of a certain mage friend of his. "We elves are built smaller and I'm used to tracking things."

"A curious sort of Warden. But that doesn't matter to me if he can help us," Alexia muses. "I await your information with bated breath. It is better than sitting and waiting for the next attack. Surely there will be one."

Taril laughs. "There's always more. And there's always another feeding time for these two gluttons. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna sleep until the next feeding. If I ever needed incentive to never have children, this is it." He's probably kidding, but he's certainly going to settle into his nest. "You can probably take one of the cots. As long as we're all up by the time he comes out to light the lantern, I don't suppose it's gonna hurt. We just need to be out of the way so he can work. I mean, he probably wouldn't say that, but I would."

"Thank you, but I should get back to the garrison. I still have armor to clean," Alexia replies wryly. "Thank you for your hospitality, and for taking this one in," she adds, gesturing to Carys' blanket fort. "I shall see myself out."


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