A bottle of white, a bottle of red

[fleurdesel]

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

Comments

[mythalenaste]

Pel nods.

"Fine. Though I've still got some bullshit to drink away, everything turned out well."

She hooks arms with him.

[samahl]

He leans a bit into her. "Good," he says.

"Though be careful. If we drank away all of the bullshit in our lives we'd float away."

[mythalenaste]

"We can try." Pel drains the last of her cider and goes to fill her cup with something else. "There's going to be an elected council. The Dalish are going to have a representative."

[samahl]

Cyril's eyes widen a bit. "Are you going to try for it?" he asks, uncertain if he's happy or not for that. It's not his place to have an opinion about mages, but he does worry that she'll take on all of the responsibility she can and work herself to her bones.

[mythalenaste]

"Maybe. It's me or Ellana. And...I don't know if she'll want it. Or if she's right for it. Or if she isn't, whether I'm any righter."

[samahl]

Cyril thought about that for a moment, thinking it over. "I feel like you both might do well. I also think that if you take it, you'll be so serious about it you'll give yourself gray hair."

That's a joke, of course. Both of them have genetics that give them hair that was already almost silver.