--an obstacle course (closed to team tinker)

The plans spread out on Nari's drafting table in the courtyard are ambitious to say the least. Multiple levels, numerous traps, triggers, levers, and other moving pieces. Wood, metal, rope, stone.

It's a good thing she has a rag-tag band of workers who are both skilled and motivated, even if they're not quite a team yet. Even if two of them are rotating between pretending the other doesn't exist, glaring daggers at each other, and sneaking surreptitious looks of consideration when the other isn't watching. And one of them had to be reluctantly drafted. And two more are trying very very hard to not be adorable. (It's good that they're better workers than dissemblers.) All told, it makes it very difficult for the elf to keep a lopsided smile from twitching onto her face more often than not. Which is, if she's being honest, a welcome change.

“So,” Nari says with bright exuberance, motioning for them all to come and take a look, “as you can see, we've got a lot of work ahead of us. I thought it might be easiest to split it into pieces. We'll get the bones of the structure up first—I'll need everyone's help getting the longer planks into place, and then we can split up to do cross-bars and supports. After that, you've got your choices; trapmaking,” she nods at Cyril, “if you'll head that up, lethallin. Then there's finer metalwork for the hinges, coils, gears and other such parts that we'll need to get into the mechanisms for both trap and obstacle—that's you in the lead there, Rey. You know what's lying around in the shop. Re-purpose away.” She grins. “If there's aught you need that we just don't have, Sam can smith you the starts of it--that goes for you too, Cy. Finally, it's getting it all to fit together right and then running tests. That's everyone again.” [or like do it all simultaneously because what is time but a construct] “Anyone see something that can work better than what I've got down here, do it,” she says with a nod, “there's a reason you're here. Just mark it on the plans.”

With that, Nahariel sets a rock on the papers to keep them down, stretches her back briefly, claps her hands together and moves to get to it. She pauses briefly and turns to call back, “Oh—and if you've not met? Introduce yourselves over work. Best way I've ever found.”

[ooc: feel free to throw your own top levels in, let us know in the subject if you don't want to be violently threadjacked by your irreverent compatriots because you're being cute or having serious chats or somesuch. 8D Also feel free to heinously ignore her assignments, make up new ones, and swap around. She won't care as long as it's getting done.

Speaking of: y'all are welcome to just assume work gets done and have it be a convenient backdrop to/inspiration for your interacting! Read the 'testing it' thread starter for an idea of how it'll be at the end!]



--bridges (open!)

Wildcard for Cloudreach~ Here she is on the schedule meme (with most of her work [except Grove stuff and side-hustles] replaced by the above project)—run into her anytime, or let me know if you want a starter.



--a mystery (closed to cade)

The days before she'd left and after she'd returned from the Sunless Lands had been almost entirely unremarkable, as if the violent displacement from normalcy that was the trip to the forest had been a dream rather than real. Nari was awake before the sun, made her quiet treks to the Grove, effected small smiles at and kept customary quiet with the man who joined her for the work, walked back, sorted work orders, assigned them, put in some good hours on the course, forgot lunch, worked on the small combination locking mechanism she was devising, visited with friends, played with the Comtesse, sealed the ends of her new wood, stripped the bark. She cut herself in the stripping sometimes, when her thoughts pulled her away from herself, cursing loud enough to be heard down the hall even with her thumb in her mouth, frustrated with far more than just her carelessness.

And she thought. Thought about watching the arrow wounds close whole and scarless under Sam’s hands, about the scars that had stayed. About how the fresh evidence of such a private thing would never see a healer’s touch. About how difficult it must be for Cade to reach to care for them. About how deeply lonely it had been to part her flesh and then bind it away from anyone who'd ask. About whether or not there were any bandages on him now; lines on him she hadn't seen.

About the new odd, uncomfortable place that had grown in her that ached to think of all of it.

It had taken nearly a month of these thoughts—of finding herself staring into the empty air between herself and her work orders, into the grey and blue chop of the sea and the flat glittering expanse of the snow, into the top of her tent, into the smooth curving grain of the wood she carved—before she took a deep breath and found herself again at Sam and Cyril’s door with the gift of one of the best pieces of wood she'd been saving to see Cyril this time.

She had spent that night staring out the small window at the stars as awake as if she'd been keeping watch, her eyes following the moon as it made its trek across the sky until the stars were nearly in the position that meant her rise. Continuing to lie down makes her skin itch, so up she goes, early, on her customary walk. A different guard rotation stops her in Hightown, but thankfully a devout one; she makes it through with only short explanation and walks to the trees, rests her back against the bark of one opposite the statue and slides down it to the base, eyeing the Maker's Bride and her open hand with consideration.

And then, guiltily, as if wherever the Creators were they could hear her voice gone errant:

Hello.

I don't know if you watch out for people like me. But I do know you watch out for people like him. Or at least you try. Maybe like the ones who watch out for me, you can't do anything. Or maybe you had looked away for a moment when--

Sorry. I'm not here to be angry.

The face she'd carved looks more forgiving than she'd made it. Perhaps it was the different light. She tucks her knees up and rests her chin on them, green eyes trained on the calm certitude of Andraste's wooden ones.

Just... don't let me ruin everything. If you do watch out for people like me.

She's like that, still looking, when the horizon lightens.