ic/ooc: inbox/plot with/contact post

[inagutterson]

{sending crystal | notes & letters | personal visits}

Note: I work Mon-Fri and I'm basically away 11 hours a day but I do tags in gdocs and I try to do a round a night. Timezone is GMT.

Comments

crystal;

[dashing]

Serah Yngvi. We've not spoken awhile; how are you faring? The Gallows seem a chaotic place, of late.

[inagutterson]

S'just Yngvi, no airs and graces for me. [He's not some fancy gentleman.] Smells like unwashed teenage lad, trying not to let anyone drip on me, offering services as required for running around, doing odd jobs. How you holdin' up?

[He's not at all absolutely terrified of his good rifter friend Rey or more importantly stepdad Thranduil and by extension his lady or ex-roommate Wren losing their marbles and maybe dying. He's fine. Totally fine.]

[dashing]

Yngvi. ( She corrects herself, though it's Weird. )

I am very well, thank you. Doing a great deal of guard duty.

( That's... not entirely honest. Physically she is very well. Emotionally nad mentally she would rather not consider how she is. Certainly not losing her mind over Cosima's wellbeing, over Coupe's, over a good many others she's come to consider friends and those that she might not know but who are still people of the Inquisition, people she must stand by. )

It is... hard to feel useful during times of medical crisis, when ones skills are so entirely lacking in that area. I find myself in conflict with myself.

[inagutterson]

Last time I did errands. Took m'lady's lady back and forth. Sat with him. Reckon if you're where you're needed then you're good and if you keep out the way of people working you're good but you need to breathe y'know. Else it just sucks it out of you.

[If they're dying then it'd be more obvious, Yngvi thinks but he knows the smell. The cough hacking up out of lungs. Fevered but lucid. Afraid.

Getting more words out takes time, he feels lost. Doesn't look want to look it in the eye again but he knows he can.]

Why? I mean I know the feeling like nipples on a breastplate, everyone does but the other bit? You sit with them if you've got someone, you say what d'you need to the other people. Fill up the time then go scream later.

[dashing]

If I were able I'd spend all my time at my lady's side, but neither of us can neglect our work, nor would we wish to. She is determined to find a cure to what ails those dear to us, and I am to see to the Gallows' security. It tears, though, to know that what is needed is healing, and to be so ill-equipped to aid in such things.

( She clears her throat. ) It is a foolish, self-indulgent lament. Pray forget I made mention of it.

[inagutterson]

[It'd be unkind to say to someone so kind to him that there aren't cures all the time. When warriors die abed of wounds turned to rot, fever burning hot beneath the skin...Templars go sooner than normal folk, it's always surprised him that rifters have lasted so long.]

You're allowed to be upset and say it, like, it being all in your had isn't good. I...I know that part. Let it out or it festers. That's healing too, you lance a wound to get the gunk out.

If you want a hand with stuff, I know how to spot shifty folk being of the shifty sort, and I did plenty of boring watches and patrols with the Boneflayers because nobles got money for days.

[dashing]

Just so.

( Of course, if this wasn't medieval shenanigans ahoy, someone might also tell them that it was possible for lancing with poorly prepared equipment to worsen the situation considerably. Who knows how that might fit into the metaphor, but it seems appropriate. )

Thank you. ( Although she's still not saying anything. It makes the prospect of losing Cosima entirely too real, too— possible. )

A sharp eye would be appreciated, but if you have other duties you must attend to, I'd not deprive them of your focus.

[inagutterson]

[Excuse you, more than half his life on Gunnar's alchemy without dying, and you know that can't be good for him. Chugging water from the blacksmith and so forth.]

Pretty sure my boss here is too frazzled to know what one dwarf is doing and I doubt she'd match my name to my face, and the boss I care about isn't even in Kirkwall or Inquisition so have at it.

[dashing]

The boss you care about?

( cur...ious...

concerning view of duty but he is Her Buddy so she's refraining from commenting. he's figuring stuff out, she knows that much. )

[inagutterson]

I'm signed on to represent our company, the Boneflayers, so Melisende who's our battlemaster, leader, she what pays my wages and sorted that out with Liadan ever since I joined ten years ago [Herian does he look or sound old enough to have been a mercenary ten years, oh well you know Carta dwarves escaping Darktown life, can't be too unlike the alienage] so she's family.

Proper family. Not like...shit family.

[Carta family. He's spinning a lot of plates right now.]