faderift | I just wanna show the world what I'm worth [open]

WHO: Geneviève and you unfortunate peasants
WHAT: an Orlesian comes to town
WHEN: Beginning of Harvestmere through the end of the month
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Info post if you want to establish previous CR or whatever PM, hmu on plurk/discord, whatever I'm easy. Also you can do prose or action spam i'm ok with whatever.

i. arrival

She is not the first Chevalier to arrive in Skyhold. She's not even the only one to arrive this day, accompanied by two others, although they are only providing an escort before they will return to the war. Geneviève tries not to look at her brothers in arms with contempt as they ride over the bridge into Skyhold proper, thinking that they would be going where she would rather. Most of the journey here she had been trying to convince Ser Brice he'd be better suited to the task, as his family had a higher noble standing than hers. Alas the arguments had mostly fallen to laughter, or the occasional admonishment. She is, after all, carrying out a mission of some import. Even if she feels that what she's being tasked with is nothing more than a foolish way to occupy her time and keep her from reopening her wounds in battle.

Dismounting from her horse by the stables she looks around, wrinkling her nose despite herself.

"People have been living here?" Though it is likely in a better state than it was when first found, she comes from a family of artists and architects. Her father has designed and redesigned some of the finest villas in Orlais. That people have been calling this place home for the past year? She can only fathom it because the proof is right before her eyes. "Andraste guide me," she mutters, shaking her head and beginning to relieve Calixte of his burden. The other Chevaliers are quick to leave her side, making instead for the tavern. Let the stablehands tend to their horses. Geneviève alone remains to dress down her horse, she knows his temper best and does not want some fool getting hurt because they weren't mindful of the horse's whims.

She speaks softly to him in Orlesian as she works, assuming no one who speaks the language is setting foot in the dirty stables.

ii. settling in/ Main Hall

Part of the requirements for her to take residence in Skyhold for the time being means seeing, as well as being seen. For most Chevaliers this would mean parading around in full ceremonial plate and looking puffed up and proud of themselves. Geneviève is of course, expected to dress as a lady would when not on the battlefield. She wears a yellow feather brooch to identify herself as a Chevalier, as if her word isn't proof enough, but when she is dressed in customary Orlesian dress (minus the mask) it is sometimes hard to believe she's gone through the same trainings all the great Chevaliers have.

She is attentive in the main hall when it's asked of her by the visiting dignitaries, eager to show that they know a lovely young Chevalier, and sometimes by men she suspect her mother had planted to attempt to draw her attention. More often than not she looks terribly bored with whomever she's speaking with, and would welcome a distraction from someone more interesting.

iii. settling in/ wandering

When not in the main hall, she is exploring, which requires a simpler dress and aside from her bright hair and the feather brooch she still wears, she blends in a little more easily with those around her. The stables to visit her horse is one place she visits most frequently, though she also stops into the tavern.

Often she'll sit in the evenings with a mug of ale, looking like she's trying to decide whether she hates it or not. It's certainly not Orlesian wine, but she'd gotten an odd look from the barkeep when she'd asked if they employed a sommelier, so it is the ale she tries.

iv. healing tents

One thing she couldn't put off, though she would like to, is a visit to the healers. She'd been given papers by the healers in Val Royeaux that had her medical records and what they'd done on her wounds, both magical and surgical. It's still a work in progress, so shortly after she'd settled in to Skyhold, she made her way to the healing tents, parchment in hand.

She approaches the first person she sees, giving them a polite smile.

"Hello, I require the consultation of a healer."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The chevalier in the tavern gets Korrin's attention, and a slight frown as that bright hair brings forth a sense of deja vu. They must have met at some point, though the Valo-Kas company doesn't typically interact with chevaliers (and that's just as well, honestly). Still, there were a lot of assignments in Orlais and likely will be once the chaos dies down.

That staring at the ale gets her lips to twitch, though. "If you really want to find a way to enjoy it, ask for dwarven ale. Compared to that, anything else is heavenly." Not needing that route herself, she beckons for a refill.

Frankly Geneviève wouldn't know one qunari from another. She's met a few from mercenary bands that are occasionally hired for help where chevaliers alone won't suffice, but her opinion of them is always fairly low. Names, faces, they don't make an impression. So even if Korrin vaguely recognizes her, when she speaks it's like it's the first time Geneviève even realized the woman was in the room. Her comment all the same gets a light laugh and draws a small smile from the redheaded chevalier.

"Ah, I have had dwarven ale before, my father often received it as gifts. With that perspective in mind, I will settle for this."

Perhaps she's mistaken, then, given the lack of recognition. Korrin's not sure it would make a difference, anyway. She's had very little to do with chevaliers, then or now. That feather is eyed with some wariness but as long as the woman remains civil, so can she.

"What a backhanded gift. They either must not have liked him very much, or it was a dare. Though that does explain a lot of drinks, especially qunari ones." She won't deny that stuff is strong, strong beyond what a human can normally endure. No one drinks it for the taste, but to show off...or at least make the attempt.

"He deals with dwarves, I believe they thought it an appropriate gift," she replies, a little dismissively. Not so much of the qunari, but of the fact that it might be an offense to her father. It isn't, of that she is certain. Of all of her family, her father is one of the easiest to like.

"I however, did drink it on a dare. Qunari ale I have not yet, though I have heard stories of those who have." Most of the vomiting that happened after.

Korrin smirks a little at the notion of the noble chevalier drinking that stuff on a dare, almost wishing she could have been around for the reaction. "...yeah, that stuff was more or less made with 'the strongest possible drink that probably won't kill you in mind'. It can get even my kind hammered, and most brews do absolutely nothing to us unless we drink a shitload. You want to try it sometime, let me know. Cabot doesn't sell it, but I keep a stash for my own use."

Mostly it's used for really bad days, or to give to people who haven't tried it before so she can watch their amusing reaction.

She lets out a small laugh, nodding her head.

"Merci, I shall keep that in mind, though I doubt I will feel bold enough to try it any time soon. I am Geneviève, au fait.

I just wanna show the world what I'm worth [open]

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