[ OPEN ] Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make me a match

[fleurdesel]

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.

Comments

SUITORS

[fleurdesel]

[ Names that found their way into the Dossier, they will all be coached on what François knows to be Adelaide's preferences ( consult Adelaide's info sheet for details ), informed of what the LeBlanc family's connections can do for them, and if they do not have any real finery of their own with which to make a stellar impression- a swift makeover of sorts at the man's hands. They must, after all, be presentable. ]

[seesobserves]

Sherlock knows enough about the noble mindset to know that the second son of a merchant doesn't rank high in terms of marital capital — and yet, somehow, his name wound up on a list of potential suitors. This business has 'Mycroft' written all over it.

He consents to only a minimum of fussing from the attache, drawing the line at anything that includes ruffles, and flatly refusing to give up his dark grey coat, no matter how the other man tuts at the scorch marks and nicks that mar the leather.

When presented to Adelaide, he offers no courtly bow, or even a hand to greet her with. He does stand in contemplation of her for a moment, attempting to place her within the context of the Inquisition (his initial reaction to hearing the name 'Adelaide LeBlanc' had been, Who?).

Her disinterest in this whole affair is practically radiating off of her. Thank the Maker for small favors, at least.

"The nobility never cease in attempting to plan marriages," he notes as he sits. "Darkspawn at the gates, and they worry about where they're going to find centerpieces."

That's not a metaphor. He witnessed as much back in Amaranthine.

[fleurdesel]

It's well and good that he doesn't attempt any gesture of greeting, Adelaide would not have seen it as she'd hoped for another half hour to compile her notes on the rifters and their shards before the next suitor. Alas, this is not to be. But at least he seems as done with the ordeal as she long before he sits. François fitters off to find the first course- lunches had courses now, Maker preserve her- and leaves them alone for a moment of mutual exasperation.

"If the Darkspawn were well dressed and politically advantageous guests, they'd be invited as well." She sets down her pen, for the moment. Anyone that can mock this as much as it deserves has earned her attention.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Okay, why did a butler dude just try to give me a lot of information on how to woo--what, your family, I guess? I can talk to you whenever the fuck I want. And usually do.

[Church is a little dazed and gussied up and so very confused.] Did I just get shoved on a date with you?

[fleurdesel]

I am going to kill Gregoire.

[ She sags in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. ]

At least you get a free meal out of this- and no. It is an appointment to test compatibility.

[dragoon_pride]

[Kain puts up an argument with François, not seeing any point to wearing anything else but his usual armor. He’s past the point of arguing about the meeting itself. The man had been so persistent and annoying that humoring him really does seem to be the best way to make him stop. But uuugh, really? Does he really have to get out the formal wear again? He is coming dangerously close to wearing all plaidweave head to toe in protest.]

[When Kain shows up, he’s wearing his fashionable attire from Vivienne, all dark blue with some silver and white trim, and nice leather boots. He’s presentable, at least, even if he has his persistently moody expression. Well, ok, and he's used a strip of plaidweave to tie back his hair. Just his subtle way to get back at François for all the bother about the whole matter.]

Let’s get this over with.

[He says this as he approaches. But after that, he at least makes himself be a bit more respectful. It’s not the woman’s fault they’re both being forced into this, after all, so he doesn’t really intend to take it out on her. Of course, it all depends on what type of noble she is. He’s only ever spoken with her once over the crystals, so he doesn’t really know what she’s like beyond that.]

Adelaide... I’m Kain Highwind. We spoke not long ago about the shards.

[fleurdesel]

[ As much as Sans Tache is the motto of House LeBlanc, Apperances Matter seems to be François personal creed. So long as everyone looks as they should, things ought to go smoothly. Or at least look as though they are going smoothly. Eventually the man is brushed and dressed- even if nothing can be done for the expression and he cannot convince Kain to leave the plaidweave hairband behind, he is presentable enough.

Kain is announced, ushered to where Adelaide sits with a glass of wine at her elbow and notes on the Rifters, their shards, and their health before her, pen working in quick loops as she compiles observations. As Kain is in blue, today she's in red, hair bound back, save for a few stray curls she continually scowls at and tucks behind her ears until they fall forward again. ]

My sentiments exactly. [ As a token attempt to be a proper hostess or whatever it is she ought to be, Adelaide pours Kain a glass of wine. ] I thought the name was familiar. Perhaps we might discuss something of relevance rather than dowries and wedding arrangements?

a bit later in the month

[onlyhymns]

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.

[fleurdesel]

"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?"

worst person ever reporting for duty

[byblow]

Per their agreement to be—nice? horrible? it's hard to tell—to Adelaide's attaché, Alistair doesn't turn up in need of any making over. Finery might be overstating it; he's very Fereldan, and so are his clothes, stubbornly, despite a decade of expatriation and a general lack of patriotic zeal. But if he was underdressed for the soirée, in all this brown and leather, he's at least adequately dressed for lunch.

"I don't have a gift for you," he says on the approach, and he's not an actor—not even attempting—so there is no cloying apology in his tone. A friendly statement of fact, that's all. "I might later, though, if I can recover my things from Montsimmard."

That, too, is true. Maybe. If she's nice.

And on the theme of honesty: "You look nice."

Andraste take the wheel

[fleurdesel]

"They aren't truly a requirement." The actual use of contractions startles the attaché enough to look between them, puzzled but pleased. His usual murmur of 'I shall leave you to it' almost sounds hopeful as he settles a respectable distance away. Not quite hovering- but not leaving them alone either.

Adelaide herself is draped in the usual Orlesian silks- fine for most but understated compared to what had been initially offered. This long gamble of her mothers needs no real humoring. She manages, if only due to familiarity and an utter exhaustion for the remaining suitors, to even sound a little warm. "You've cleaned up well. François didn't give you much trouble, did he? I know he tends to fuss."

DESPERATE MEASURES

[fleurdesel]

[ From the third week on François grows harried and desperate, the formality and pomp of the earlier suitors coming to naught. He starts grabbing clean and respectable individuals to sit in vain hope of finding anyone that Adelaide will agree to. They get the same abbreviated conversation about Adelaide's preferences, the Family's finer points and benefits. Highly abbreviated. At the end of the month he's simply asking who wants a free meal and won't mind sharing it with a mage. ]

[amygdalae]

[If Bruce had known that the other person in question was Adelaide, he would have instantly said no. But of course he didn't know the name until after he agreed on this, so now Bruce finds himself sitting awkwardly in the garden and doing his best to not show said awkwardness on his face.]

...for the record, I only knew it was you after I said 'yes'. [And it wasn't as if the explanation he had beforehand was very... helpful.]

[fleurdesel]

You might be the first person I have had to share a meal with this month that I actually like, Bruce.

[ Not that everyone else has been terrible, but. The situation dictates and she is weary of it, has been, for weeks. ] Consider it a free lunch instead of our usual Tea.

[justice_is_blond]

[His joke is ignored by the attache who appears to be impatient and tired, and Anders is basically shoved into a room hoping it's not a trap. Once the door closes he sees who it is, and he's still left wondering if things could go very poorly. Meal with a mage makes more sense in the context of what he'd seen posted on the boards, now.]

Oh. I'm sorry. He asked if I could stand to have a meal with a mage and I told him I ate by myself all the time so yes, and then I was here. I'd offer to do a magic trick and disappear only I'm half-certain he's leaning against the door to keep it closed.

[fleurdesel]

... [ For a long moment she simply stares at Anders, primped and painted (at the attache's insistence) though the powder and blue velvet and rouge do little to ease the edge of her scowl. ]

Open the door a moment, would you?

SPECTATORS

[fleurdesel]

[ Want to point and laugh? Ask what in Andraste's name this mess is all about? Have some words with Adelaide about how there are better things to do? (She knows, Maker, she knows, she's stuck with this mess and cannot untangle herself from it so easily. Come, speak, mock, or commiserate. ]

[gatheringstorm]

[As soon as Korrin catches wind of what's happening, probably thanks to the bulletin board, she retreats to the cellar and fetches a bottle of best-quality Orlesian wine she can find. Then she'll head to the garden where she's heard Adelaide is seeing suitors. She waits until that drip of an attache is otherwise occupied, then joins her and pushes the bottle forward.]

Somehow, I figured you'd need this. And Cade, really? Ew. You can do so much better, Adelaide.

[Literally anyone else, it's not a high standard.]

[fleurdesel]

I could kiss you.

[ Not that she will without permission and cause or at least the attache's presence to earn herself a proper scandal, but the wound tight frustration ringing through Adelaide's shoulders eases somewhat. Coils and settles into a vague approximation of relaxation as she reaches for the bottle of wine and uncorks it with a twist of spirit magic. ]

Not my choice, not my suggestion. What do you know of him, actually? I have not yet seen him and only know he is a templar.

[arlathvhen]

[ Beleth is by no means respectable-looking, but she manages to slip into the table Adelaide has been stuck in, while the strange Orlesian man was off. The dossier was strangely endearing, different and yet not so dissimilar to what she's heard from her own mother. It is as good of an opportunity as any to attempt to seek common ground. And Adelaide probably could use a break from suitors, anyway. ]

Ah, good day. I saw that strange list on the board. It's funny--I wasn't grateful for the small population of Dalish until I saw that list of men, and realized I would have probably received a similar one from my mother if there were any appropriate suitors in Skyhold. Although...I suspect I would have more mages listed for me, and at least a cursory statement on how many mages they've had in their family.

Still, you have my sympathies.

[ Beleth gives her a small, warm smile. ]

[fleurdesel]

Truly I do not know if I ought to thank whoever posted copies or feel a gross invasion on behalf of my family. Then, of course, someone else is brought before me and I feel that I care far less about the latter and more weight to the former.

[ Her family wouldn't have made this a private mess, oh no, it must be public enough that she is obligated to play along. At least she and the attache can say that they tried and be done with it when the month is over. There are worse things. ]

They are attempting to find a match of political influence and weight- seeing as Southern Circle Mages have no lands or titles and most apostates tend to not be noble, the pickings are slim aside from reaching for Tevinter and that is...reaching for Tevinter. I doubt they are so desperate as to go so far.

Said he was going to stand there and laugh....not really

[sandsofhell]

[Martin wasn't exactly someone who would interfere with private affairs. Well let's rephrase that, not one to interfere with private affairs anymore. Although he probably does owe her one for that timely response at the party. But even so, he wouldn't exactly know what he could do to intervene.

There probably wasn't anything he could do. Still the entire thing is rather silly if someone were to ask him. But, well the least he could do is pay the woman a visit the first chance he got.]

So, how're the marriage prospects coming along?

[What else is he supposed to say?]

Someone should, this is a comedy of some sort

[fleurdesel]

Captain Walker.

[ A brief respite between suitors or coaching or scowling- honestly Adelaide has given up on keeping track of paying the attache much attention. At least she is well supplied with wine while at the table- more than enough to pour Martin his own glass during this lull. ]

Horribly. Even when looking at a politically advantageous or profitable match I would hope my mother to take into consideration that I would have to live with them. Many of the men so far have been terribly absurd. One called me possessed, another thought I was a blood mage.

Because you know, James.

[judgemewhole]

[James managed to make it almost a whole third of the way through the month before Francois managed to pin him down, and it was through no little effort of the man. James had seen the posting on the first day and then proceeded to be nowhere convenient to be found for almost ten days to save himself from ... well, a truly awkward situation for himself and Adelaide.

On the tenth day, however, Francois caught him coming out of the baths and there isn't much you can do when someone steals your clothes and will not give them back until you agree to have your assigned .... 'courting'.

So there he is, freshly scrubbed and looking all the more grumpy for it, glowering at Francois as he steps inside, and then slams the door in the man's face. With. Great. Emphasis.

Then he turns towards Adelaide, and states frankly.] My Lady LeBlanc, I wish to let you know that I have not been avoiding this meeting because I find you unattractive or not marriage material. In fact, the opposite on both measures. I want to make it clear that this was not my idea because I knew it how much discomfort it would bring you. Clearly, that matters little to that ...

[He glowered at the door.] Snippet of a matchmaker out there.

[fleurdesel]

[ Another day, another meal, another suitor. Another argument about whether or not she ought to be permitted her notes, another victory for her despite all points on the attache's part that it might be distracting her from her duties. It is, that's the point, he can silence himself and sulk in a corner if he likes. And he does. Often. Even after arranging this. Another meeting, another gown. ivory and airy today which suits her fine, if she has to spend one more afternoon and evening shoved in a corset and wrapped in velvet she might scream.

Norrington she'd seen and discounted after the first few days didn't end with him- she'd hoped he had, perhaps, managed to avoid this somehow. Alas. ]

My mother is the matchmaker, my brother the one that recommended you. Next I write him I shall include in every way that he might expect retribution for his meddling.

[ Gracious as she can attempt to be, she gestures to the chair opposite. ]

In his opinion it would be terribly romantic. Which is what comes from having an author in the family I suppose. Please, sit. I'll pour.