faderift | A bottle of white, a bottle of red

WHO: Open to anyone that wants wine and warmth and a little company.
WHAT: Wine and no whining.
WHEN: After the mage meeting wraps up.
WHERE: Close to the healing tents, specifically the Orlesian section.
NOTES: There will be wine, drinking, unwinding, and nibbles.

The meeting had been stressful for just about everyone involved. Tempers had flared, opinions made known, a few rounds of confetti and arguing before some manner of accord. Whether it would last or however long it might? No one could truly say. In the interest of being quite done with the stress and headaches such debate brought on the Orlesian healing tents clearing out the potions, bandages, and poultices in favor of what cushions and braziers they had on hand for light and for heat. The space was open, warm, and inviting with an odd assortment of tin mugs or clay glasses set around flat side tables propped up with stones to keep them from wobbling and tipping the whole mass onto the ground. There are some dried fruits and hard cheeses, dried meat and hard crusted bread- whatever scraps they could scavenge or spare and a few bottles of wine or brandy. Across the entrance to the tents there was a sign:

Bring a bottle or food to share for entry.

Tacked below was a list of rules:

Everyone is welcome, don't make a fuss
Don't hog the wine
Don't hog the food
Don't fight or argue
If you finish a bottle open a new one, don't recork it for someone else to find
Clean up after yourselves

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Do?" she questions, as if anything beyond healing is a concept she can't wrap her head around. And really, it's because there never was much beyond healing that caught her interest. Too many eggs in one basket, there. But she gives it some thought, her gaze lowering for a moment before it comes back up.

"I do enjoy music. And dancing. I am not so skilled at it as those mages who participated in the Game, but it is fun."

There's a bit of a stress on that one word that has Sam raising a brow. "The Game?" He has never heard of that before, though it sounds like it has something to do with music and dancing since that's how Christine has brought it up.

"I take it that learning to dance was something you did in the Orlesian Circles? I was never taught that."

"You have not heard of the Game? Count yourself lucky. It is the Orlesian way of life at court. Mages should be outside of it, but some play along as the nobility's source of entertainment and try to rise high enough to pull the puppet strings. I have never liked the idea of it. It is all false nicety and backstabbing." Christine shakes her head. No, she prefers to speak plainly as she is a simple village girl, not a political and social mastermind.

"A bit, yes. It passed the time. They had to keep us entertained so we didn't bounce off the walls."

"That... doesn't sound fun at all." Sam wrinkles his nose a bit. There were many things he would never get about Orleis; those masks and now this Game. He takes a mindful sip of his tea, trying to envision living your life like that.

"That sounds like a good past time. Most we had was playing chess, reading a book, or seeing if you could "help" with the cooking."

"I am sure it is great fun if you've a mind for it, and enjoy stepping on others on your way to the top." But that will never be Christine's ideal. "I stayed out of it."

It made life in the Circle boring, to be sure, since only a few mages got out by playing the Game well. At least Montsimmard hadn't been as terrible as some other Circles.

"I remember our First Enchanter had the misguided idea to put some of the Tranquil on cooking duty. That was a mistake. Things tasted terrible and they didn't understand how to prevent that. As long as it was filling, they served it."

"Probably not misguided since they did that in our Circle too. Though it never tasted terrible since they followed the recipes to a T. Though the food was still kind of... bland and we often had the same thing a lot."

There had been a lot of chicken. Which was a great meat, just not something he enjoyed having nearly everyday. He had certainly missed seafood.

"It must have been our fancy Orlesian recipe books. We couldn't always get all the ingredients, so instead of substituting something similar, they just omitted it." Christine shrugs. "I quite like the food here. It is heavier than I am used to, but good." Hearty, stick-to-your-ribs food. The main cook had to be a Ferelden.

"Perhaps I should learn to cook for myself. It would be something to do now that people are recovering and there are fewer injured."

That earns Christine another chuckle. "A bit more fish would be great, but I can understand why that would be hard to pull off." The cook probably was indeed Ferelden, the kind of cooking Sam rather enjoyed. Both for actually filling him up and because it reminded him of home.

"That might be an idea. I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard to pick up. Food's like magic right? Steady hand, patience, and wanting to care for people." Well he doesn't know if that's true, but it made sense right?

It's the ideal, really. Plenty of people with magic don't care about others, and they end up giving the whole group a bad name. But Christine absolutely cares, and she nods along. Making a hearty meal for someone could be a new goal; something to strive for.

"And if I said I would need a volunteer to test my cooking?" she asks slyly, giving him a smile.

Oh? Was she asking for a taste tester? "Hmmm," he hums, rubbing his chin in pretend thought. "Well the bulletin board is always good to find volunteers."

The facade is quickly dropped though, followed by another chuckle. "I'm sure I'm easy to find if you needed one."

"I was hoping for you, yes. That way if my cooking is so horrible that you end up with food poisoning, you can easily heal yourself." And also because as a fellow mage that had to put up with bland cooking, she wants to give him first dibs on something that will (Maker willing) be tasty.

That earns Christine a raised brow. "... And why wouldn't I just come and find you and make you heal me for the food poisoning? Are you trying to poison me Miss Christine. That's not a very nice thing to do."

Obviously he's joking by how he's grinning. How she's asking and talking about this is rather cute.

"Have you ever had food poisoning before? Trust me; you will not be able to move." Or at least, not move very far from the chamber pot. She waves a hand and clicks her tongue.

"The very idea! I am a healer. I would never poison you or anybody else. But I have no delusions of grandeur about what my first cooking attempts will be like. You must prepare yourself."

"Thankfully I've only had mild cases of food poisoning in the past. So no, I don't exactly know the full terror of it." He's not exactly looking to ever get a serious case of food poisoning either, thanks. Seeing others suffering from it is bad enough.

"I'll be waiting for when you give me a call to be your first victi- volunteer!" A purposeful slip of the tongue. Honestly, he looking forward to this, if anything just so Christine has something else in her life to do and enjoy.

Her eyes narrow, but a smiles plays across her lips.

"Mmm hmm," she hums, managing to somehow make the noise utterly Orlesian-sounding. It's a gift.

"Then the first step is to actually find someone willing to teach me. The cook will be far too busy to indulge in my fancies. But once I've started, I will let you know."

Gift indeed. Seriously, how do that do that?

"I'm sure there is someone around here who knows how to cook that would be willing to teach you. We do have that bulletin board, could always put up something there if word of mouth doesn't get you anything."

"This is true. Thank you for the suggestion." It's food for thought, anyway. Heh, puns.

"For now, I am going to enjoy the celebration and try to talk to Adelaide. It was good speaking with you."

The mention of Adelaide brings a bigger smile to his face. The woman was enjoying the wine quite a bit so conversations were... interesting. Then again in his case it had nothing to do with wine and all about a certain mercenary.

"It was a pleasure, Christine. I will see you around then."

A bottle of white, a bottle of red

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