faderift | [ OPEN ] Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make me a match

Entry tags:

[ OPEN ] Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make me a match

WHO: Adelaide, Suitors, Spectators
WHAT: A series of disastrous encounters
WHEN: Throughout Cloudreach
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: OOC POST.

The last day of Drakonis brings a familial attache to Skyhold. François is a stern, formal, and unyielding man at the beginning of the month- hounding Adelaide to make certain she meets each appointed suitor, one for lunch, one for dinner, chaperoning the meetings in hopes of finding a suitable match for the sole single LeBlanc. It becomes rapidly apparent that despite his best efforts, it is for naught. Adelaide, despite being forced into moderate finery and made to sit and bear the company of these men, is less than amused and determined to at least get some paperwork done between meetings. Or during if the conversation is that dull.

The set up for each, unless the suitor has his own mind about the matter, remains the same. Simple and elegant, a table in the garden that is public enough to not be improper, private enough to not invite undue observation, and comfortable enough to suit their needs. The meals are as fine as François can manage with Skyhold's resources and the coin provided for the meetings, each accompanied by Antivan or Orlesian wine. As the month progresses Adelaide's temper grows short and François' patience goes thin. Deviating from the Dossier is not recommended but- desperate times? Desperate measures.

He starts seeking out the clean and respectable looking, dragging them to the table and plopping them in the chair and instructing them to talk, for the love of the Maker.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cade has been... indisposed, mysteriously unavailable for meetings until a day or so ago. Accompanied by a young Templar, he is guided to the garden, where he bows to the seated Adelaide with a respectful, "Lady Leblanc." The other Templar steps back to hover in one of the archways, and Cade awkwardly goes to sit across from her. He's genteel but clearly nervous.

And he has two black eyes.

"Maker's breath-" What happened to him? She stands, eyes flicking from Cade's face to the attache's before gesturing for him to leave them. This is not exactly what she'd expected when Korrin spoke with her. "...Why have you seen no healer?"

Cade doesn't look in mirrors all that often, so it takes him a moment to remember what Adelaide might be reacting to. He startles, but then touches his face self-consciously. "Ah, I... did," he says, eyeing the chair but not taking a seat yet-- it doesn't seem the right time. "...Healer Samouel wanted to, ah.. concentrate his magic on the rest of it." You should see the other guy. Or... well, you should have seen this guy before Sam got to him. This is the handsome version.

"...It was worse?" She glances to the Attache who, honestly, shrugs and mutters something about Cade not holding still for powder to hide the unsightly bruising. With a thought she calls Compassion's power to her hand, blue light pooling in her palm and brightening her eyes. "Lean in, I will tend to the rest of this."

This is not at all how Cade anticipated the encounter going, and he stares dumbly at Adelaide for several moments before tentatively doing what she says. He leans forward with an air of uncertainty, but allows her to tend to his bruises, since she's a Circle Healer and clearly knows what she's doing.

Once she's finished, and they've sat back again, Cade finds that he has been completely derailed from everything he had run over in his mind on how to approach this. He sits there fidgeting, trying to come up with something to say.

A few moments of cool, healing magic and the bruising is mended. It does help his face quite a bit and despite Korrin's commentary and concerns, Adelaide finds herself musing it is not so terrible a face. Perhaps if he didn't seem so skittish he might even be pleasant company. "...I am fairly certain you did not wish to come."

A beat and she draws back to her side of the table, pouring herself a glass of wine. "I honestly do not blame you. Had I any say, I would not be here either."

Cade sheepishly runs the fingers of one hand over his face, the soreness on which is now completely gone. He's quickly caught by surprise when Adelaide makes her assertion, and he stares at her a moment, mortified and perhaps even a little stung.
"I--.." he sputters, and is about to start explaining himself, or denying it, but then comes the second part of the sentence. ...well.
"..I'm sorry," he says, his chest beginning to tighten with doubt. And disgust. If he'd only known, he wouldn't have humiliated himself by showing up in the first place. Unless that was intentional. He's never even spoken to this woman before, but he has no doubt now that she's had the chance to form her own conclusions.
"..I can go," he adds, a bit more quietly, defeatedly. Might as well just get it over with.

"For your family doing what noble families do and causing trouble for those of us that would rather they not? They did not even have a portrait of you; I doubt you knew enough to ask them to not." She remains cautious of this man- a templar with a temper never ends well- but...she cannot blame him for his family's actions.

"No need. Stay, have a meal- you look as though you need it. Or several- do they not feed you in the barracks?" Malnourished? No. But on the worryingly slim side.

Cade is talked down from leaving, cautiously hopeful in Adelaide's reassurance. Perhaps she didn't mean it. Perhaps she did, and is toying with him further. Either way, the news of his dossier brings a grim smile to his face.
"I haven't seen them for some time," he admits, "they gave me to the Chantry. I thought that would be the end of it." Apparently not.

At her question, he looks a little surprised. "...I don't... live in the barracks," he says mildly. It's true, though, that he doesn't eat with the other Templars anymore. He got tired of being looked at.

"As much as I have written to my own- I have not seen them for about thirty years." She shrugs- something they actually have in common but it is not so strange for children that aren't the first born and therefore required to carry on the family name.

She pours herself a glass of wine and does much the same for Cade, nothing too heavy or too strong for a light meal in the afternoon. "...Do you not feed yourself, then?"

Thirty years. It strikes him that she must be somewhat older than he is, although it's something like twenty-five years since he's spoken to his, so it's likely her magic manifested young.
He observes the wine as she pours it, and thanks her quietly, but makes no move to pick it up. "...what?" He's a little incredulous, but not to the point of being impolite. "...I... yes." He can't help but wonder at the world's fixation on his physical health while they actively shun him.

He decides to reroute the conversation instead of spending the whole time defending himself. "What kind of, um... magic do you do?" Mages are, on the whole, untrustworthy and frightening, and might turn on everyone at any moment. But for now, she seems relaxed, or at least civil.

"You seem...I will not say starving, but hungry. You look hungry." To that end she takes the empty plate before him and begins to serve a little of everything- chicken in wine, sausage in herbs and butter, roasted potatoes. A meal that will stick to his ribs.

"I am a spirit healer, most of the magic I use is of the Spirit and Creation schools with an early focus in frost magic." A beat passes as she settles back to sip her wine. "I heal and work with ice."

Well that's an odd thing to say at a lunch date, and Cade finds himself staring perplexedly as Adelaide fixes him a plate. He... well... all right.

"That must be difficult work," he comments, accepting the plate and beginning to cut a piece of chicken. He hasn't yet touched the wine, and might not. "You're a healer here in Skyhold?"

"I spend about half of my day in the healing tents, yes. There are always bruises or broken bones or burns that need tending. Less than there were before- we have more healers, we have more potions brewed for emergencies, we have less opportunities for them to injure themselves as the Hold is rebuilt." She squints a bit at him, at the full glass of wine, and back to him. "...would you prefer tea?"

Cade listens pleasantly, even appreciatively. He is generally distrusting of mages, but understands the need for healers, and how society is beholden to them. It's an important job, and not just any schmuck can do it.
"That's good," he says politely, then trails off as he takes a bite. Still chewing when Adelaide motions to his glass, he looks a little sheepish and nods. "Sorry," he murmurs once his mouth is unoccupied.

"Don't be. I assumed." She tugs his glass of wine off to the side, pouring instead for him a cup of tea. No sign of anyone quite so violent as she'd been led to expect. If anything he seems mostly harmless. "And yourself? How do you spend your days?"

He relaxes a bit when the wine goes away. It's not just that he tries to avoid vices for religious reasons; he's afraid of what they would do to him, the person he would become if he indulged. Things are bad enough as they are.
Cade thanks her quietly for the tea, offering a small smile as well, though it quickly becomes strained at Adelaide's question. There's really no way to explain this that isn't awkward.

"...I... do... clerical things for Seeker Aleron in the mornings," he says, speaking mostly to the table, "and in the afternoons I help the laborers. Mostly in the valley." Sometimes up in the keep, if he's needed. None of it is especially Templar-y.

"That is more than I see most templars serving the Inquisition outside of being sent on missions." A diplomatic enough answer, truly. In the keep there is not much use for the templars outside of the odd balance of their usual duties against the mages that may or may not want them.

Still, not permitted a weapon, not training, not around mages. It could be worse. "Try the duck, it's roasted well."

When in doubt? Discuss the meal.

Cade does as she suggests, but mulls over Adelaide's words as he chews.

"...have the Templars of Skyhold been good to you?" It never struck him that he could care about such a thing, but then, he's never really just... sat down and chatted with a Circle mage before. He finds, against expectations, that he wants her to like him. How things have shifted since only a year ago.

"They've kept their distance, which is all I require of them." Norrington and his lot are not so terrible, but they are few from many. It could be worse. They could be organized and deliberately acting against the Mage Council- but they are not. "Some have been quite helpful in training mages in how to handle attacks from Red Templars. Which is, again, more helpful than I'd expected of them."

It's a little hard to hear, but not surprising. Cade smiles mildly, enjoying the moment as long as it takes for him to realize that he's talked himself right into a trap; he has not been useful to mages. Quite the contrary.
"That's good," he says, a bit strained, and takes another bite from his plate. Stupid.

"It is good to know that they are more focused on helping the Inquisition as a whole, however they can, than on hovering over our shoulders." even if some found the old system comfortable- the issues remained.

Cade's smile verges on guilty at this, and he looks at her a little too long before he suddenly remembers his tea and takes a sip of it. How convenient that he has so much to occupy his mouth right now!
A nod follows as he clumsily avoids offering his opinion. Perhaps this can be saved if he just doesn't talk again.

Well this is... awkward.

And yet not the most strained meal she's had. She can't quite recall which that was at the moment, but she is certain this is not it. Top three, but not number one. Somehow. Perhaps if she gives it time, they're barely through the first course. "What...do you do in your free time? When you are not working."

That's safe enough, yes?

Oh no, this question. He hates this question. Even Cade knows how pathetic his answers always are, but he's not bold or interesting enough to lie.

"...ah..." he fumbles for something beyond 'walk around', 'be sad and afraid', and 'receive the occasional beating from an elven ex-assassin with whom he would normally have zero business consorting but this just happened somehow'. ...no, probably shouldn't mention that.
"...read," he lamely answers, and picks up his tea again. Somehow, he manages to make the act of drinking tea look apologetic. He knows. It's okay. None of her thoughts are unique to her.

"Yourself?" Any excuse to get the focus off himself is a good excuse.

a bit later in the month

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