The Spoiled Princess Who: Signy Dagna and members of Group One not at the docks. Where: The Spoiled Princess, Kinloch Hold. When: 23 Molioris, 9:45 Dragon. Summary: The alcohol might not be good at the Spoiled Princess, but at least it's there. Rating: TBD.
They had come into view of the Circle Tower early that afternoon; at first, it was barely appreciable, a small dot on the horizon as they walked. But it grew, and grew, so that by the time they were picking their way down the last sharp, sloped hill of the Calenhand basin, it was an immense and daunting structure rearing upwards into the sky. Signy stared, and stared, and stared.
And when someone proposed that some of their group look to the inn for rooms for the night, and for supplies? She was only too happy to volunteer.
Nearly everything about the Tower unnerved her, and made her profoundly curious, all at once. How many mages were inside? And how many Templars? How long had it taken to build it, and what techniques could they have used to build a single, thin structure so high? The buttresses around the base, yes, but would they hold all that weight? And the thought of what the world must look like from all the way at the top made Signy feel sick merely to imagine it. And yet. To see inside it, to see the place that Dagna had studied and labored and made her discoveries... It loomed in her thoughts almost as large as it was in life, as she and a part of their group headed for the rickety, squat-looking building. An inn and a tavern, supposedly. She could see a few people staying back, outside--Ashya and Coan, she caught sight of, at least--and that was their business, she supposed. Maybe Ashya wanted to visit? Or... Or another reason, perhaps. She changed the way her pack was settled, and heard a small yip from the Culture Hound. It was the kind of noise he made every so often, almost, Signy thought, as a way of reminding her that he was still there and deserved affection and attention. Not wanted, but deserved, as if it was his by natural right.
So she reached back and patted his head. He seemed mostly content to ride in her pack, with his top half sticking out so that he could look around and sniff the air. Dogs, she had noted, had an inordinate love of sniffing things -- maybe even more than nugs did. And nugs spent half their time sniffing. (The other half was spent peeping or being roasted deliciously. The thought made her mouth water and her stomach twist with the hopeless wish that this tavern would sell a good poached nug on lichen bread.)
She stepped into the tavern, the smell of ale and the sudden dimness familiar; Signy felt herself relaxing just slightly. She turned back to look at those who had come in with her--following her perhaps only by virtue of her having made such a beeline for indoors and out of view of the tower. "Should we see about rooms for the night?" This was a question. "And drink and food." This was not.
Most people on Thedas put it 'food and drink'. But Signy was from Orzammar, and being raised in the Market District within hearing (and smelling) distance of Tapsters made for slightly different priorities. She paused for a moment--a moment in which it was easy to see her nervousness in the set of her shoulders and the way she brushed her hands down her dress a few times--and looked back at those who had joined her, again, to see if any of them were planning to step up and speak to the innkeeper. Or...