@mitchftw
Rook loves the markets. Treviso, Minrathous... doesn't matter where. It's nice, the reminder that some parts of the world just keep on going even when everything else is falling apart. They tag along even when it's Lucanis' turn for groceries, perusing tapestries to hang on the walls of their room or trinkets they think their companions might like. There's so much life here, food and conversation. One can almost forget that the gods are at their doorstep.
The music carries over from across several rows of stalls, and Rook visibly perks up. The Circle was never big on spontaneous bouts of musicality. The Wardens even less so, though she once knew a recruit who played the flute from time to time. And now the Lighthouse... well, nobody brought a lute with them, that's all she's saying. Rook waves off Neve and Lucanis - I'll meet up with you two at the fruit stall, okay? - and weaves her way through the crowd. The performance is drawing to a close, but she doesn't mind; and when the crowd dissipates, she's the first to step up.
"You're really good," Rook offers, fishing for a piece of gold from their pocket and flipping it his way. "I mean it, I've run into a lot of buskers, but— where'd you learn to play?" Maybe they should be sending Manfred off to take lessons. Every party needs a bard. The Hero of Ferelden had a bard. The Inquisitor had tons of bards. Hawke had... Varric, who is basically a bard, but he's kind of in no shape to take up the role again for Rook, so.
