A cracked ringing marked the entrance of a tall stranger into one of the Lowtown shops. Dust swirled around his fur boots as he took his first couple of steps into the shop and then looked at the bell that announced his presence. "... Gonna need a new one," the stranger remarked with a sigh. He wore fur fashioned from animal hunted in the wilds, though the quality was top notch. When someone had enough time on their hands as he did, they tend to do tiny things, anything to pass the time. Quality cross stitching with designs sewn into the leather, edges and insides lined with the fur of his hunts. Underneath it all was a cloth shirt tied together with leather. His hair had grown out, falling down past his shoulders and swept back with a leather strip tied into a bow. Noticebly, there was a scar cutting through the right side of his face, and it was still fresh. On his back hung a quiver bereft of arrows and a worn Oaken bow. At loop in his belt hung a wide blade, a machete he had brought along with him on his little trip. Considering the notches lain into the blade, it'd seen it's fair share of work.
"Home, huh? Just as cheery as I left it," Ashton deadpanned to himself, swatting at the dust he was stirring up. Leave Lowtown for a couple of months, and his shop gets taken over by the stuff. Typical. Ashton had grown since his leave. Not upward, as that was likely impossible. He was already lofty as it was, get any taller and he wouldn't be able to walk in a breeze without being blown down. He grew outward, in the only way one does when left to their own devices in the wilderness. No longer the walking stick he left, there was now some meat on those bones. Flimsy arms were now strong, a concave chest now bowed outward with muscle, and powerful legs provided a strong foundation. By no means was he Lucien, the man was still as wide as two of Ashtons, but he was doing fine for himself.
He walked across the aged planks, listening to their whines and squeals, so unused to contact for the past months. Sure, they always did that, but after not hearing them for a while, they just seemed so much more apparent. Hell, he didn't even know how long it had been since he'd last been in his shop. All he knew was that it was warm, then it was cold, then it got warm again. Those snowy months were terrible, especially since he had nothing to warm his belly. Something he was looking to rectify that very instant. He tossed what he had on his back onto the counter and reached behind it, retrieving a dusty bottle and a companion glass. He took a seat, pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it into some corner of the shop. He paused pouring the liquid into the glass as it was just dusty as a the bottle.
Eyelids fell halfway across his brown irises. That was no good. There was an easy solution, at least. He sat the glass back down on the counter and drank from the bottle straight. The resulting burn was just what he had been missing, and now that there was a fire back in his throat, the world seemed back in balance. He did nothing for the longest time, just sitting on his counter and knocking back the bottle, taking everything in around him. It was different, his shop. He had become so accustomed to the loneliness of the wilds, where the only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the drifting winds, and the calls of animals every now and then. Here there was still sounds of life all around him, but muted. Like it was repressed, nothing like the crisp air of the woods.
It called for another drink, as he knocked the bottle back once more. He really, really needed that. Though what else was he supposed to do? His first stop had been Nostariel's shop-- empty. Strange, considering it was in the middle of the day. His next destination had been the Hanged Man, and after a couple of drinks, he was satisfied that Nostariel was neither there. So here he was, in his shop, sitting and drinking alone. He could think of worse ways of spending the days, but he could imagine better too. He began to get antsy, just sitting on that counter, and with some exaggerated movement, leapt from the counter back to the floor, where he began to meander around his shop. Eventually, he found himself standing infront of the Dragonbone bow he had finished just a few months prior.
It too had a fine layer of dust, not that it surprised him. He really should have left someone the key so that his shop wouldn't look so... Dead when he returned. He blew a layer of dust off the bow, though some of it forced its way down his throat and sent him into a coughing fit. Something he remedied with a quick swig from the bottle. Once he was cured from his coughing fit, he lifted the bow from it's place and held it in his arm. He felt its perfect weight, the balance he had carved in it. It was, with a bit of arrogance, his finest work. He had surprised himself with its workmanship. He didn't think himself capable of such an artisan piece. Too fine for his own hands, that was for sure. It'd do nicely for his purpose. He sat the bow back down into his mountings and grinned.
The same cracked ringing marked the entrance of a guest in Ashton's shop, and in the doorway stood a petite, blonde, elven girl, with a bow slung over her shoulder, a half full quiver of well-made arrows to go with it. She was perhaps not the small blonde female elven archer that Ashton was hoping to see, but Lia certainly didn't know that. She looked over the state of Ashton's shop with an expression that was either amusement, or bewilderment. Upon noticing the man himself drinking straight from the bottle, she paused, keeping the door open with the toe of her boot.
"Should I... come back later?"
He turned toward the door and shrugged, "You don't have to, but I don't have any stock to sell-- unless you count all this dust stock. In which case, I've got plenty, sell it all to you for a copper. Can I help you sweetheart?" He asked. Obviously Ashton didn't remember the girl. A single instance of their meeting three odd years ago was a hard thing to remember-- even if she was pretty and blonde, though still far too young. He turned his back to her, sat on the counter, lifted his legs and then spun his way back, propping a hand under his chin and popping the mouth of the bottle back into his mouth. His eyes never left her as he eagerly awaited her answer. It'd been a long time since he spoke to another creature that didn't growl back. He hadn't realized it, but he missed conversations. Talking to birds could hardly be considered a conversation.
"Not here to buy," she said simply, making her way into the store proper, and letting the door close behind her. It was no wonder he didn't recognize her. She'd changed in appearance considerably over the past three years, growing up to a whopping five feet two inches, with some noticeable changes to her figure that had certainly not been present when she'd been twelve. But her face was still largely the same, and her hair still the same well-kept shoulder length that it had been before. She hardly recognized him, either, and for a moment thought he was a different man, but when he called her sweetheart in that way, she knew him to be the same.
"Seems rather dumb to buy the skins when I could hunt them myself," she said with a casual shrug, her tone taking just a hint of playfulness. "I'm looking for work, actually. Work outside the Alienage. This seemed like a good place to start, given my skillset. You... wouldn't happen to need any help around here, would you?" She had clearly taken note of all the dust everywhere, and while cleaning wasn't exactly what she had in mind in terms of help, if it would bring in coin, she wouldn't mind all that much.
"I need all the help I can get..." He muttered, but his flittering smile broke back onto his face. "A hireling, huh? Fair enough-- I'm off doing Maker knows what most days, someone to man-- er, woman, rather-- the store while I'm away doesn't sound half bad actually," Ashton said rubbing the whiskers on his face. "Just.. Don't expect to be swimming in wealth. Sovereigns don't rain in this line of work," he added. Hell, he had trouble staying afloat before he came into the sizable chuck of wealth thanks to the Expedition. That could be chalked up to his extracurriculars instead of actually doing his job of course... If the girl was even slightly more focused than he was, she'd be fine.
"Right, if I can have your name, you can start right now. This place needs a bit of... Dusting," An understatement.
"It's Lia," she said. "And if you ever need someone to go out and hunt more for you while you're... drinking, or doing Maker knows what, I can do that, too. Girls can do more than clean, you know." She seemed semi-serious, but something in her eyes gave away the fact that she wouldn't hold it against him that her first task was dusting. "And hey, maybe with me around, you can actually start making some money here. I don't expect to get rich or anything. I'm a city elf," she pointed out, as if that wasn't obvious. "A lot of people in the Alienage never even see sovereigns. I'd just be happy to bring in some outside coin is all."
She was relatively certain that if he was going to recognize her, he would have done so by now, so she pulled a small knife from her belt, with a handle carved from bone. Antlers, specifically. It was a pretty little blade, slightly curved. "He carved this for me after you killed that deer, by the way. He was really practical back then. I thought he might have tried to kill you, honestly. I'm glad he didn't. Wouldn't be able to make money off of you if he had."
"Hmm?" Ashton murmurred as she withdrew her knife. Deer? Him? What was she talking-- Oh. Oh. Oh no, "Ithilian?" he monotoned. "You're Ithilian's girl. Does he know you're here? More importantly, can he track you here? I just got back, I'd rather not flee back into the forest," Ashton said, putting a hand on his face. Maybe the man wouldn't murder him if he gave Lia a job. She needs employment. Maybe he's still a practical man. The memory came back to him. The incident in the forest with the contested deer. That's right, he remembered her now. She was younger back then, smaller. Though it wasn't her he was focused on. She was a good kid. It was her father that he was worried about. The time with Sparrow and Rilien in the Alienage came back-- and the way he butchered the Darkspawn in the Deep Roads. He... Preferred to not think about it.
"If he murders me, it's you I'm gonna haunt," he deadpanned.
She crossed her arms. "Pff, calm down. I'm not his girl. He's not my father. He just looks out for me. Which means you should probably be on your best behavior. But thankfully, he also listens to me. He'll be mad when he finds out about this, but I'll make sure he doesn't kill you. It's not like you're kidnapping me, after all." "He best not. It's hard to get paid when your employer is dead," Ashton said, plugging his mouth with the bottle. So this girl wasn't Ithilian's girl... It only took him what? Three and something years to figure that out? Not like Ashton had exchanged many words with the elf. He shrugged, feeling that the explanation was good enough-- or maybe it was the booze starting to take effect. Either way, Ashton pointed into a corner of the shop. "There should be a broom somewhere. See if we can't make this shop look presentable for today, and we'll set to replenish the stock tomorrow," he said.
She nodded, unloading her bow and quiver and placing them on the counter, before taking up the first broom she was able to find. She was relatively certain Ithilian would listen to her when she told him not to kill Ashton. She was here by choice, after all. If he wanted to be angry at anyone, he would have to be angry with her. And she knew by now that he really wasn't capable of that. He could pretend to for a while, but it always wore off when he stopped thinking about it.
Ashton watched the girl work for a while before an idea struck him. She lived in the Alienage, she was an elf (obviously) maybe she knew? "Hey Lia, you know the doctor set up nearby? Nostariel, the Warden elf? In the nice blue little building? You have any idea where she is? I checked by earlier and she wasn't around. See, she's a good friend of mine, and I promised her something," he said, sitting eagerly on the edge of the counter. He hoped she knew.
"Nostariel? Yeah, I saw her in the Alienage on my way out," Lia said as she swept. "There's something going on, but Ithilian wouldn't tell me anything about it. If you go looking for her, might want to avoid telling Ithilian about this little arrangement, yeah? Probably best if I do the explaining." He paused and nodded, "... Yeah, that's probably best," He agreed, hopping off the counter and shouldering his equipment. Six months of constantly wearing his bow and his machete made him feel naked without them. However, a bow would be little use without arrows, so he reached under the counter and retrieved another dusty bundle. He slipped them into his quiver and made his way to the door before stopping. "You're free after you're done. Lock up if you leave," Ashton said, tossing a key into her direction.
"Home, huh? Just as cheery as I left it," Ashton deadpanned to himself, swatting at the dust he was stirring up. Leave Lowtown for a couple of months, and his shop gets taken over by the stuff. Typical. Ashton had grown since his leave. Not upward, as that was likely impossible. He was already lofty as it was, get any taller and he wouldn't be able to walk in a breeze without being blown down. He grew outward, in the only way one does when left to their own devices in the wilderness. No longer the walking stick he left, there was now some meat on those bones. Flimsy arms were now strong, a concave chest now bowed outward with muscle, and powerful legs provided a strong foundation. By no means was he Lucien, the man was still as wide as two of Ashtons, but he was doing fine for himself.
He walked across the aged planks, listening to their whines and squeals, so unused to contact for the past months. Sure, they always did that, but after not hearing them for a while, they just seemed so much more apparent. Hell, he didn't even know how long it had been since he'd last been in his shop. All he knew was that it was warm, then it was cold, then it got warm again. Those snowy months were terrible, especially since he had nothing to warm his belly. Something he was looking to rectify that very instant. He tossed what he had on his back onto the counter and reached behind it, retrieving a dusty bottle and a companion glass. He took a seat, pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it into some corner of the shop. He paused pouring the liquid into the glass as it was just dusty as a the bottle.
Eyelids fell halfway across his brown irises. That was no good. There was an easy solution, at least. He sat the glass back down on the counter and drank from the bottle straight. The resulting burn was just what he had been missing, and now that there was a fire back in his throat, the world seemed back in balance. He did nothing for the longest time, just sitting on his counter and knocking back the bottle, taking everything in around him. It was different, his shop. He had become so accustomed to the loneliness of the wilds, where the only sounds were the rustle of leaves, the drifting winds, and the calls of animals every now and then. Here there was still sounds of life all around him, but muted. Like it was repressed, nothing like the crisp air of the woods.
It called for another drink, as he knocked the bottle back once more. He really, really needed that. Though what else was he supposed to do? His first stop had been Nostariel's shop-- empty. Strange, considering it was in the middle of the day. His next destination had been the Hanged Man, and after a couple of drinks, he was satisfied that Nostariel was neither there. So here he was, in his shop, sitting and drinking alone. He could think of worse ways of spending the days, but he could imagine better too. He began to get antsy, just sitting on that counter, and with some exaggerated movement, leapt from the counter back to the floor, where he began to meander around his shop. Eventually, he found himself standing infront of the Dragonbone bow he had finished just a few months prior.
It too had a fine layer of dust, not that it surprised him. He really should have left someone the key so that his shop wouldn't look so... Dead when he returned. He blew a layer of dust off the bow, though some of it forced its way down his throat and sent him into a coughing fit. Something he remedied with a quick swig from the bottle. Once he was cured from his coughing fit, he lifted the bow from it's place and held it in his arm. He felt its perfect weight, the balance he had carved in it. It was, with a bit of arrogance, his finest work. He had surprised himself with its workmanship. He didn't think himself capable of such an artisan piece. Too fine for his own hands, that was for sure. It'd do nicely for his purpose. He sat the bow back down into his mountings and grinned.
The same cracked ringing marked the entrance of a guest in Ashton's shop, and in the doorway stood a petite, blonde, elven girl, with a bow slung over her shoulder, a half full quiver of well-made arrows to go with it. She was perhaps not the small blonde female elven archer that Ashton was hoping to see, but Lia certainly didn't know that. She looked over the state of Ashton's shop with an expression that was either amusement, or bewilderment. Upon noticing the man himself drinking straight from the bottle, she paused, keeping the door open with the toe of her boot.
"Should I... come back later?"
He turned toward the door and shrugged, "You don't have to, but I don't have any stock to sell-- unless you count all this dust stock. In which case, I've got plenty, sell it all to you for a copper. Can I help you sweetheart?" He asked. Obviously Ashton didn't remember the girl. A single instance of their meeting three odd years ago was a hard thing to remember-- even if she was pretty and blonde, though still far too young. He turned his back to her, sat on the counter, lifted his legs and then spun his way back, propping a hand under his chin and popping the mouth of the bottle back into his mouth. His eyes never left her as he eagerly awaited her answer. It'd been a long time since he spoke to another creature that didn't growl back. He hadn't realized it, but he missed conversations. Talking to birds could hardly be considered a conversation.
"Not here to buy," she said simply, making her way into the store proper, and letting the door close behind her. It was no wonder he didn't recognize her. She'd changed in appearance considerably over the past three years, growing up to a whopping five feet two inches, with some noticeable changes to her figure that had certainly not been present when she'd been twelve. But her face was still largely the same, and her hair still the same well-kept shoulder length that it had been before. She hardly recognized him, either, and for a moment thought he was a different man, but when he called her sweetheart in that way, she knew him to be the same.
"Seems rather dumb to buy the skins when I could hunt them myself," she said with a casual shrug, her tone taking just a hint of playfulness. "I'm looking for work, actually. Work outside the Alienage. This seemed like a good place to start, given my skillset. You... wouldn't happen to need any help around here, would you?" She had clearly taken note of all the dust everywhere, and while cleaning wasn't exactly what she had in mind in terms of help, if it would bring in coin, she wouldn't mind all that much.
"I need all the help I can get..." He muttered, but his flittering smile broke back onto his face. "A hireling, huh? Fair enough-- I'm off doing Maker knows what most days, someone to man-- er, woman, rather-- the store while I'm away doesn't sound half bad actually," Ashton said rubbing the whiskers on his face. "Just.. Don't expect to be swimming in wealth. Sovereigns don't rain in this line of work," he added. Hell, he had trouble staying afloat before he came into the sizable chuck of wealth thanks to the Expedition. That could be chalked up to his extracurriculars instead of actually doing his job of course... If the girl was even slightly more focused than he was, she'd be fine.
"Right, if I can have your name, you can start right now. This place needs a bit of... Dusting," An understatement.
"It's Lia," she said. "And if you ever need someone to go out and hunt more for you while you're... drinking, or doing Maker knows what, I can do that, too. Girls can do more than clean, you know." She seemed semi-serious, but something in her eyes gave away the fact that she wouldn't hold it against him that her first task was dusting. "And hey, maybe with me around, you can actually start making some money here. I don't expect to get rich or anything. I'm a city elf," she pointed out, as if that wasn't obvious. "A lot of people in the Alienage never even see sovereigns. I'd just be happy to bring in some outside coin is all."
She was relatively certain that if he was going to recognize her, he would have done so by now, so she pulled a small knife from her belt, with a handle carved from bone. Antlers, specifically. It was a pretty little blade, slightly curved. "He carved this for me after you killed that deer, by the way. He was really practical back then. I thought he might have tried to kill you, honestly. I'm glad he didn't. Wouldn't be able to make money off of you if he had."
"Hmm?" Ashton murmurred as she withdrew her knife. Deer? Him? What was she talking-- Oh. Oh. Oh no, "Ithilian?" he monotoned. "You're Ithilian's girl. Does he know you're here? More importantly, can he track you here? I just got back, I'd rather not flee back into the forest," Ashton said, putting a hand on his face. Maybe the man wouldn't murder him if he gave Lia a job. She needs employment. Maybe he's still a practical man. The memory came back to him. The incident in the forest with the contested deer. That's right, he remembered her now. She was younger back then, smaller. Though it wasn't her he was focused on. She was a good kid. It was her father that he was worried about. The time with Sparrow and Rilien in the Alienage came back-- and the way he butchered the Darkspawn in the Deep Roads. He... Preferred to not think about it.
"If he murders me, it's you I'm gonna haunt," he deadpanned.
She crossed her arms. "Pff, calm down. I'm not his girl. He's not my father. He just looks out for me. Which means you should probably be on your best behavior. But thankfully, he also listens to me. He'll be mad when he finds out about this, but I'll make sure he doesn't kill you. It's not like you're kidnapping me, after all." "He best not. It's hard to get paid when your employer is dead," Ashton said, plugging his mouth with the bottle. So this girl wasn't Ithilian's girl... It only took him what? Three and something years to figure that out? Not like Ashton had exchanged many words with the elf. He shrugged, feeling that the explanation was good enough-- or maybe it was the booze starting to take effect. Either way, Ashton pointed into a corner of the shop. "There should be a broom somewhere. See if we can't make this shop look presentable for today, and we'll set to replenish the stock tomorrow," he said.
She nodded, unloading her bow and quiver and placing them on the counter, before taking up the first broom she was able to find. She was relatively certain Ithilian would listen to her when she told him not to kill Ashton. She was here by choice, after all. If he wanted to be angry at anyone, he would have to be angry with her. And she knew by now that he really wasn't capable of that. He could pretend to for a while, but it always wore off when he stopped thinking about it.
Ashton watched the girl work for a while before an idea struck him. She lived in the Alienage, she was an elf (obviously) maybe she knew? "Hey Lia, you know the doctor set up nearby? Nostariel, the Warden elf? In the nice blue little building? You have any idea where she is? I checked by earlier and she wasn't around. See, she's a good friend of mine, and I promised her something," he said, sitting eagerly on the edge of the counter. He hoped she knew.
"Nostariel? Yeah, I saw her in the Alienage on my way out," Lia said as she swept. "There's something going on, but Ithilian wouldn't tell me anything about it. If you go looking for her, might want to avoid telling Ithilian about this little arrangement, yeah? Probably best if I do the explaining." He paused and nodded, "... Yeah, that's probably best," He agreed, hopping off the counter and shouldering his equipment. Six months of constantly wearing his bow and his machete made him feel naked without them. However, a bow would be little use without arrows, so he reached under the counter and retrieved another dusty bundle. He slipped them into his quiver and made his way to the door before stopping. "You're free after you're done. Lock up if you leave," Ashton said, tossing a key into her direction.