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

His head tilted some as he looked up at her, offering her a smile in kind as he pulled his leg up to prop his heel on the edge of his seat.

"It's nice," he replied, shrugging some then holding up his bottle in case she might want a sip. "Glad you all are taking a moment to wind down. You're having a good time at least, I take it."

She waves a hand vaguely at the offer. "Oh, no, no. I must take a break. And yes, I am. The meeting was stressful, but we accomplished something, which is good. Oh! And I have found fabric for you. I will give it to you another time. Now is the time for enjoying ourselves."

He nods at the offer of eventual fabric; had she not reminded him, he might have actually forgotten that he had promised to make her a gown, or some other clothes so that she wouldn't have to wander around in mages' robes. "When we're both sober and life settles back down again then," he says and lifts the bottle in a small cheers before taking another swallow. "Have you got any ideas for what you'd like, when we're able to do that?"

"Pants," she says immediately. "Something with a long tunic on top, with a hood, perhaps? And sleeves that will stay back when pushed up." Briefly, Christine gives the wide sleeves of her mage robes a shake. "These are not the best things for a healer. They get in the way."

"Pants, a comfortable hooded tunic, perhaps with cinching sleeves to be easily tied up out of the way," he replies with a nod. "Simple enough, though it may take time to get them back to you, with as much work as there is to be done here."

"I understand," she replies, her head lifting a little. "It would be poor behavior to hound you for such a thing when there are more important things going on." And robes have served her well enough for most of her life. They're just cumbersome when it comes to being active, like running or getting her hands dirty.

"I've never understood the necessity for mages to wear robes, personally. They're so cumbersome and I'd imagine without proper protection they'd be vulnerable to fire damage. Not to mention particularly cold unless you're wearing thick trousers underneath." If he were a mage, he would have preferred pants, for certain.

"I suppose there is an argument to be made for them being cumbersome on purpose," she replies thoughtfully. "It would make escaping the Circle much harder if the sleeves and hem caught on everything. Plus you would be in an outfit that will immediately out you as a mage, should you make it out into the world."

Christine waves a hand. "But that is all in the past, now. Now I can have practical clothes for the tasks I need to perform."

"Like a much more difficult sort of uniform. I feel for all of you in that case."

Christine's outlook is a good one though, and Krem nods. "Absolutely. If you have any other requirements for them, don't hesitate to let me know."

"I will. You are very kind to do this." And kindness is something Christine doesn't forget. Since the rebellion, she's seen the best and worst of people, and though she can't erase the memories of the worst, she counters it with remembering others' kindness towards the mages who ran from the Templars at the previous conclave.

"I'd better check on Adelaide. I have something I wish to ask her, and I should do it before either of us have too much wine in us."

Krem looks back at the bulk of the gathering at the mention of Adelaide, chuckling some as he spots her and the smile on her face as she drinks.

"I think that would really be best. She may fall over before long, can't imagine she's used to drinking so much in one sitting." He looks back to Christine, reaching out and giving her arm an easy, companionable squeeze. "You too, try and get some water in you. Makes the hangover not so rough in the morning."

"Oh, no, I will look out for her!" Christine protests lightly. Really, she idolizes Adelaide, and would do anything for her.

Her eyes drop down to where Krem touches her arm, and it's... nice. She knows it's meant to be friendly, and the fact that he's done so is important to her. Mages are people, as Templars are people, as mercenaries, and bakers, and dragon slayers are people. This small bit of familiarity is something they could all learn from. Krem sees her as a person, and not as a weapon or an abomination. It's such a little thing, but it's given Christine much to think on.

Maybe when she's sober, if she remembers.

"I will have to do so, thank you. Enjoy your evening."

A bottle of white, a bottle of red

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