falling rain -- [ rowan ]

The Free Marches were a confusing place to navigate, putting it lightly. True, they were more tolerable than the grand cities of Orlais, but Rowan was not quite used to the winding roads and beaten paths that carved their way from Ostwick to Kirkwall. Not a journey he would like to undergo annually, but since the hold was camped not too far away and in need of supplies, he needed to make the trek into Kirkwall.

It would have been fine had it not been for the sudden onslaught of rain.

In all honesty, he didn't mind the rain on its own. He would have enjoyed the refreshing downpour in any other situation, but walking in uncomfortable boots that chafed with each step and carrying a heavy rucksack had left him weary, to say the least.

With nothing around in either direction for miles, Rowan was left with a bit of a dilemma. He'd come too far to turn around, but it would be unwise to set up camp in the middle of nowhere. Exhausted, but undeterred, he opted to push forward and was soon met with the scent of smoke rising up from a small alcove off to the side.

No sooner had he scented the smoke than he was met with the voice of a stranger calling out to him. He'd have jumped, had the weight of the rucksack not pressed him back down. Peering in the direction of the fire as he drew closer, he caught sight of his accoster, and - with relief - noted that they were alone. He'd been warned of the templars and mercenaries that frequented these parts by the augur, and from the look of the woman by the fire, she was neither.

Then again, he could always be wrong, for his experience outside the hold was limited to small roadside trades and the occasional confrontation with hostile avvar and (rare, but still noteworthy) Qunari mercenaries.

"Thank you, I appreciate the offer."

Rowan offered what he hoped was a genuine smile, and shucked the bag from his shoulders to rest between his feet as he took a spot next to the other traveler.

"I wasn't expecting to see anyone else on the roads as they are," He mumbled, reaching up to push his wet bangs out of his eyes. Glancing over, he managed to get a better look at his companion. She didn't seem like the descriptions of templars given to him, though something about her seemed off, even if he couldn't put his finger on it. "Are you heading to Kirkwall as well?"

Awkward small talk, but it was worth it to be polite to one who so graciously shared their space when they were not obligated to.

(sorry! I thought I had posted my reply, but it looks like it didn't go through. D: I'm remedying this now~)

Though his original temptation had been to shake his head until the water had been expelled from his hair and face, that would have been unpleasant for the other party. Rowan stopped himself, tired eyes darting between the cloth and its owner - curious - but he took it gingerly, albeit gratefully.

"Thank you," He sighed and proceeded to work as much of the damp out of his hair and face as possible. "Mm, it seems to be quite busy in Ostwick. Many merchants and traders seem to be run dry."

"I'm just - just heading to Kirkwall and back, I suppose. I'll be staying on land for the time being." A good thing, he wasn't necessarily fond of longer journeys by boat. A bit too reminiscent of how the remainder of the hold fled Ferelden.

His voice was briefly muffled as he did a quick run through of his face, but returned to normal as he pulled the cloth away and wrung it out. Were things a little simpler, he could dry it - dry himself and the other person if he felt like it - with a little magic, but the 'Marches weren't simple. Rowan almost resented that, but the feeling faded as quickly as it came.

"Here," He folded the cloth into a neat little square and passed it back to its owner. "I appreciate it."

Outside the alcove, a crack of lightning split the sky, soon to be followed by an earth shaking rumble. He frowned, but didn't jump. It seemed as though they would be there a while longer if the storm wanted to rage on in such a fashion. Oh well.

His fingers dipped into the pack, and quickly brought forth a small pouch.

"Hungry?" Rowan pulled the drawstring and offered the pack to the stranger - an assortment of dried fruits, nuts, and meat - not enough to be a meal, but it was something. "Might as well regain some energy for whenever the storm subsides."

If she took it, he'd grab a small handful from the pouch and hunch over, looking into the fire.

"It's rare to find hospitality from -," He paused, stopping himself from saying "lowlanders" and switching gear. "Anyone, really."

"And to you, as well." Not insincere, though his monotone might have made it sound that way. "I can't say I envy the journey ahead of you, I don't quite have the stamina for any extended time in a boat."

When they had both finished with the pouch, he tied it once more and shucked it away in the bag. He'd have to purchase something else for the return trip once he reached Kirkwall, or make a short hunting detour. The latter would be better for his nerves, in a sense, but not necessarily easier.

"It's alright. I suppose I'm adjusting to company," Rowan shrugged. It was true, of course. Even taking up a more extended home with the avvar felt strange. He'd been isolated for far too long, it was a miracle he'd managed to string together any sort of coherent sentence to this stranger. "No need to fight unless it's absolutely necessary, right?"

He cringed at the thought of getting into some scrap over something petty and insignificant. No, he'd had enough of that as a child, he'd rather keep it together and flow with whatever came his way.

Swallowing, he inclined his head at her comment.

"So - assuming there are any boats left in Kirkwall - where will you be going next?" Of course there would be boats, it was just a jest.

With the rain coming down hard, his words were muffled, but still - hopefully - audible.

"If you say it like that, it might turn out to be bad," He almost snorted and shook his head to repress the sound. "Though I'm a bit more pessimistic."

I expect the storm will follow us all the way to Kirkwall, given how things have been as of late.

"Business, huh? I guess everyone's been on the move." The hold had been struggling to find a more permanent settlement. Ferelden had yielded poor results, and the 'Marches were looking to follow suit. Just his luck. "Well, if you're looking to escape the rain, I'm afraid Ferelden won't be much better."

"I've heard - things - are happening in Ferelden. Not much about it, just things." Rowan raised his voice a little so his companion could better hear him. "I'm surprised people are moving towards the trouble. My - uh - the Hold has been trying to distance itself from such things for quite some time."