Participants:

Adeline_icon.gif Smith_icon.gif

Scene Title Bloodstains Are Better Than Fire
Synopsis Adeline arrives in Kirkwall and learns a little bit about this newest assignment.
Location Kirkwall Docks, Lowtown & The Hanged Man
Date Bloomingtide 22, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Coolest Bird Ever(TM) and whatever-the-hell is in the Smith's flask.
Logger Dragony-goodness

After Amaranthine, Kirkwall was practically a vacation. Or, at least, it could likely be construed as one from upon a ship's deck. Never one much for sailing, Adeline had spent much of a trip below deck. Now, though, that they were pulling into harbor, the Senior Warden has come up top. Up, into the sunlight that takes her a moment to adjust to, the sound of gulls, the winds pulling her already unruly hair up and away, whipping about her head and neck like some sort of dark mane. Grey and blue, her ever present color palette, clad her in the form of a tunic belted at the waist, and breeches that fit carefully to her form. Impatient for the trip to be done, she moves up to the bow of the ship, trusting her balance, and a hand upon the rigging to hold her steady as she climbs as high as she can go. The calls of sailors ring behind her, the banter of their own sea language to pull the ship in. With creaking and cries eventually it docks, and Adeline, trusting the others to make their own way without hand holding, is one of the first to disembark. Truth be told, it is not without some wobbling, she'd just managed sea legs, and they were loathe to be gone despite being on solid ground again. Sharply blue eyes take in the docks, stepping far enough away to not be in the flow of traffic from the disembarking crew and passengers. Arms cross in front of her, and for a moment Adeline just stands, acclimating to the new surroundings.

And waiting there on the docks - perhaps mostly invisible in the general hubbub of the day-to-day fishermen, merchants and sailors, is a woman. Dwarven women aren't the most common sight surface-side, even in a place like Kirkwall. Still, simple leather armor and a dark blue hood do wonders at hiding a surprisingly pretty face and a crooked, knowing smirk. "You're the Warden, right?" She's got the smooth accent of all dwarves who trace their lines back to Orzammar. "You certainly stand out anyway. If you've got luggage, get it now." She sounds amiable enough, but there's a definite edge to her voice that's almost sarcasm, but never quite makes it all the way. She holds herself like she doesn't have a care in the world, but her eyes are sharp on the movement around them both. "Your unit's being put up at the Hanged Man until all of you get here. It's not far, but you'll want to get in and settled before the work crews let out." Because at that point, things tend to get a little messier than most newcomers are ready to deal with.

Well, the griffon insignia on her back probably gives her away on sight. It's not like Adeline tries to hide what she is. Looking down to the dwarf as she is approached, the question is met only with a nod. At the mention of luggage, she looks over to the things being removed from the ship. Convenient timing, really, as those things which belong to her are brought up. At her hip is her dagger already, never one to go completely unarmed. But there upon the dock are a footlocker, likely containing armor, a bow and quiver, and a large, heavy looking bag. Perhaps it's sarcasm that the dwarf speaks to her in, but Adeline isn't someone who travels without anything. Stepping aside a moment, still having given no words, she shoulders the bow, quiver, and bag, and takes up the footlocker. It's not a light thing, but she seems to manage it alright.
Returning to the dwarf, she offers a close-mouthed half smile. "I take it you can show me where this place is? Or at least point me to someone who can?" She asks, Starkhaven accent still heavy, despite all her years away.

"Yeah, I can take you. Not often a girl like me gets a request to babysit a pack of Wardens." And for some reason this seems to amuse her, mouth breaking into a full-on grin when she says it. "C'mon, Warden. This way." Kirkwall's docks and Lowtown are never what could be described as 'quiet' but at this time of day they are particularly busy. Hawkers call their wares to anyone who even looks like they might have coin to spend - forget being interested. At one point, some enterprising soul tries to shove a fish right under Adeline's nose. To prove 'freshness' of course. Friendly lot, these Kirkwallers. Inside the Hanged Man is only marginally quieter. The dwarf holds the door open for the Warden and her things, kicking it shut behind them. "You've got rooms upstairs." Explanations being offered while shoving them a clear path through the late afternoon crowd. "There's ale and stew and bread to be had down here. Can't promise anything about the flavor, but you won't go hungry."

"Babysitting? Is that how they pitched this?" Adeline says with a small laugh, but none the less follows her dwarven guide where she leads. Despite her carrying her own footlocker, despite her following a dwarf down the streets of a city she does not know, Adeline has a straight, proud posture that doesn't waver. Watching the bustle of the city, it's almost believable that she's legitimately perceptive enough to catch everything going on. Stoic and strong and precise, there's almost a majesty that comes along with the Senior Warden. That is, of course, until, without her noticing his approach whatsoever a fish seller shoves a less than appealing carp into her face. Nose crinkling, Adeline reels back. Perhaps the fish was perfectly fine, she was well and truly sick of the smell of fish after the sailing trip. The expression on her face, one might expect the Warden to full on hiss at the young man. Sharp blue eyes narrow, and perhaps she is about to reproach him when she is cut off by an avian screech. Clawed talons snatch the fish from the seller's hand, a gyrfalcon taking interest in the ware far more than the Warden who she belonged to. It makes the seller jump back, and Adeline laugh a little.
Continuing to walk, Adeline chuckles to herself. And, a few moments later, when she is a dozen paces away, the falcon comes to land upon her shoulder. The seller notices, and Adeline is called after, but the crowds are thick, and the most he gets for his loss his a cheeky smirk over her shoulder. Maybe it would be remembered by other barkers. Likely not, but as Sterling nuzzles against her cheek, Adeline can't help but be thankful. Despite the bird's ill-gotten goods sitting, as well, upon her shoulder. She wouldn't begrudge the bird his meal.
Giving the dwarf a nod, she glances toward the stairs upward. "Honestly, it's food, and alcohol we haven't had to mix ourselves. I'm sure none of us will complain. Thank you." She says, "You can call me Adeline, by the way, not just Warden."

The addition of the bird doesn't seem to bother their guide, though there might be something like nostalgia on her face for a moment as they pass each other getting in the door. It's unimportant and therefore unmentioned; there are more pressing things at hand. "You're a Warden and I'm a Smith. Why not call a spade a spade? Or do you not play Diamondback?" She shrugs and starts up the stairs. "If you don't, you'd better learn. Only deals that stick in this town are made over a gaming table." The Warden is led to the suite with dwarven decor. There isn't anyone else about, but there are piles of field cots ready to be assembled as the unit trickles in. "You can put your things in the back there. The bedroom will have to serve you as an office for now. Don't know how long you're meant to be staying, but." She shrugs. "It's small all right, but it's warm and dry."

Up the stairs she follows, though the room at large does get a parting glance over her shoulder. Well, at least she was a Marcher. Never been to Kirkwall, sure, but she was no Ferelden refugee, or Orlesian nosing in on business that wasn't theirs. Perhaps her home would give her some sort of decent welcome, once her guide had vanished off back to her real life and regular duties. "I've played some." She answers vaguely, but the point isn't her playing, really. Up into the room she goes, dropping off her things and jostling her bird enough in the process that she receives a barbed glare from the creature, even a little avian cry as she rolls her shoulder to loose her quiver from beneath the falcon's talons.
Glancing toward the bedroom, she nods. "At least it's not on fire. It'll serve." She answers. Seems wherever she came from wasn't exactly a picnic. Watery ale and a bedroom office was more than suitable. Especially since, inevitably, she'd be making her way into the Deep Roads sooner than perhaps anyone would like. Such comforts would seem like luxuries then, surely.

The Smith nods, seemingly satisfied by the casual display of practicality. "You'll see new bloodstains from time to time, but the old girl hasn't caught fire yet." Just to be safe, she knocks casually on the wooden door frame she leans on. "Did they brief you at all before they sent you up to this shithole?"

"Yeah, well, bloodstains I can live with." Adeline says with another one of those crooked half smiles. She's already crouching to begin the process of setting up a cot. Seems she doesn't intend on sleeping in the office. Displeased with the dipping and crouching and shuffling, Sterling alights from her shoulder, taking up a spot on an uneven bit of wall instead. Adeline shakes her head. "Nope, can't say they did. I got told 'You should go to Kirkwall' and it sounded a right sight more pleasant than where I was at the time. So here I am." She answers, voice dry.

The Smith curses under her breath, pushing off from the doorway and stepping more fully into the room. Thank the Ancestors that Varric likes to gamble. It means there are plenty of empty seats around the table for her to pull one out and spin it around to straddle without taking a potential perch from either of their guests. "Well, I doubt I'm the right person for the story, Warden, but I can tell you what I know." She pulls a little metal flask from its pouch at her hip, taking a good hard swig before thinking about it a minute and holding it out in an offering. "Warden Commander Roarke came through about a month ago. Full squadron of Wardens with him, too. They bothered a lot of people, asked a lot of questions. No one really knows what they wanted but they were in an awful big hurry to get it."

Frankly, Adeline would take information where she could get it. Wardens, especially in the wake of a Blight, are busy people and she's never been one to sake someone down for information unless it was her only option. Cot set up, she pulls it before the Smith's chair, sitting down and listening. "Whoever is the right person? Stories and stories." Adeline says, taking the flask with a nod of thanks. Pulling from it, even. And after the different varieties of Warden-mixed concoctions she'd drank, it really doesn't matter what the hell is in there. Passing it back, she nods. "We tend to be like that."

The Smith accepts her flask back with a nod. It's hard telling what exactly is in there other than pure alcohol of some spicy variety. She fixes it back in its pouch and stands. "That's been my experience, at least. I guess they found what they wanted, cause about two and a half weeks ago all of them went into the Deep Roads and didn't come back out again. They were supposed to report to someone, cause I got orders that there was some kind of search party coming, but hell if I know to who or about what. Guess you'll know better than me once you get all your people under you."

"Well then." Adeline says, shaking her head and sighing. "I can only assume what our job here is going to end up being, then." Then again, the Deep Roads were tricky places, and it wasn't unheard of for endeavors down there to take longer than originally planned. None the less, if people felt the need to be concerned, there was probably reason. Her nose crinkles, and then she nods. "Thank you much, Smith, for the escort and the information. Let me buy you a drink sometime." She says, offering a more genuine smile then. She wasn't stern all the time.

The Smith returns the smile with a crooked grin of her own, offering a shallow bow. "See if you still thank me when you see what kind of shape the thaigs around here are in. It won't be a fun trip." But she has a job and she'll do it the best she can. Old promises are hard to break, after all. "I'll be in and out as the rest come in, but if you need to reach me you can pass messages through the barkeep." And with that, and a single farewell of "Warden," the Smith is gone, leaving Adeline to her bird and her thoughts.

"Smith." Is all that is said back. To her bird she goes, humming quietly to herself. There was much to think on, and possibly much to prepare for. And the more she thought on it, the more uncomfortable she grew. What in the hell was so important down there that the Commander of the Grey himself had gone on expedition? With a huff, she turns to her own footlocker, pulling out a well-loved bottle. Sitting back down on her cot, Adeline turns to drinking. The first one here, it would do her no good to sit there and spin herself in circles.


Any additional notes fall to the bottom.