faderift | A bottle of white, a bottle of red

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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

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It was no nod of the hat to the Dalish, nothing so purposeful as that. Simon certainly would have liked her to wear protective covering on her feet, but the cold wasn't enough to discourage her from wanting to feel the earth under her feet. Particularly in Skyhold, rich with songs all its own.

Songs she could not hear, at the moment, and when Ellana reached for the bottle, River simply released her hold on it, looking puzzled.

"It won't help them."

"Not the drink itself, but it helps bring people together to be social." Of course, that doesn't always turn out well, as the Herald's wake showed. But just because there were tensions then doesn't mean Ellana is going to shun all interactions with others whenever alcohol is present. She's confident that anyone getting rowdy here will be quickly escorted out.

"If you look around, a lot of people are relaxed and enjoying themselves. The wine is just a way for them to get started with conversation."

Well. She wasn't wrong. It had certainly brought up conversation here, thought drinking it to do so was apparently optional.

River still looked skeptical, her gaze shifting over those gathered with the same slightly confused look. "Louder but softer around the edges. They want to blur and blend, oil paint smearing on fingers..." She turned to mumbling, eyes falling to the fresh red spill on her robes, staining her pale feet.

"This...isn't happy. It doesn't have the same sound."

"Well that's because it's on your feet, not warm in people's bellies," she says, a note of amusement to her voice. Though she honestly isn't sure how the girl is hearing wine in the first place.

"What about tea? Do you think you'd like to have some of that? It's available over there." She points to another table, where Adelaide has made sure to provide an alternative for people who don't want to drink alcohol.

River follows the gesture with her eyes, spying the tea where it's been laid out. Tea is pleasant, warm, full of fondness and comfort. No one drinks tea to forget their sorrows, but maybe there's something to the idea. Usually a number of herbs soaked in the brew to add various qualities.

Her toes curl, sticky on the damp ground. Finally, looking a little uncertain, she drifts in that direction, towards the other table.

Ellana follows after a moment, thinking she should assist so the tea doesn't end up all over the ground too.

"I'm Ellana," she offers. "What's your name?"

"River."

She takes hold of one of the cups upon arriving at the table, turning it over in her hands studiously. When it apparently passed the test, she reached for the tea to pour. Her hands seem steady enough, though there's some hesitation as she glances back at the elf.

"I can do it."

"Hello, River." Her head dips slightly, acknowledging what River says. "I hope you like the tea better."

She's kind, the elf woman. Soft. An odd fit for the struggle at hand, but Simon was soft sometimes too. Not nearly as often, now.

Those dark eyes remain trained on Ellana as she pours the tea, lifting it gingerly to her lips. She pauses, letting the bitter notes fall over her tongue. "Sunlight on the windowsill. Her hands still shook when she poured, afraid what would happen if she spilled."

It's hard to know what River's referring to when she talks like this. Ellana wonders if she's missing something, like maybe this is common for humans and their beverages. All she can try to do is get more information.

"Whose hands? Yours?"

"His slave. Anthea. Little flower."

She licked her lips again, brow creasing heavily. "She'd bring honey."

There were very few good memories of Tevinter, but she remembered the sunlight and the elven girl, and how very kind and very afraid she had been. There was no measure of beauty to be found in that place that wasn't shackled to sorrow, somehow. That was the very essence of the place.

The only place Ellana has heard of that still has slaves is in Tevinter, and elven slaves too.

"You spent time with her?" she asks. Krem told her clan that he knew elves who were slaves back home, and that one even hid under his bed once. It was how he knew how to greet Clan Ashara in elven. She wonders if River is similar.

"She came, and went. Then she stopped. Pulled her petals for a spell and never saw her again."

The bitterness of the tea is too much, a reminder of metal, liquid and warm and sloshing in her mouth. She makes another face, abruptly putting it down and pushing it away.

The elf that hid under Krem's bed was caught and never came back either. Ellana wraps her arms around herself, feeling cold.

"Maybe she got away," she says, a spark of hope there, even though she knows it's unlikely.

River shakes her head. It's not a very nice way to end the story, but there's no question what happened to the girl. Life in Tevinter is cheap if you're not a magister, cheaper still when you're a slave.

"Fuel for the fire, burning brighter so they could see."

Ellana's eyes lower to the table. She's suddenly lost her appetite for anything too. And while it still isn't clear what all these people have to do with wine or tea, it's easy enough to understand the implications behind this.

"Blood magic," she murmurs, disgusted.

"He didn't see people. Possibilities. Bigger than their skin, deeper than their bones. He didn't care what they were now or if they wanted it."

She swallows quietly, her throat bobbing. Thirsty, but not for tea or wine. Best to just leave it all alone for right now.

"People who practice blood magic don't care about anyone but themselves," she states firmly. That's what her Keeper taught her, and there's no reason to believe otherwise.

"Not true."

She gets very quiet now. She can't say, she knows she can't, but she knows. Desperation can drive a person to do anything, dangerous things, and it's not always out of selfishness. He wasn't selfish, he was trying to help...

"Not always true. But it doesn't matter now."

"I'm not sure I would want to hear about its unselfish reasons anyway," she replies. And since they've both lost their appetite, she shifts away from the table a little.

"Will you be all right on your own?"

"Simon will find me."

She's fixed on the elf again, voice gone very soft, very quiet. Unless someone strains to overhear them, it's unlikely they'll pick up the words.

"You're not responsible. Not for all of them. Not for me."

"Oh, I wasn't trying to act like an authority or anything, I promise," she says, since she really only half-understands her. "I suppose I worry too much." But it sounds like this Simon person will keep an eye on her and maybe he can help in ways Ellana can't. She's tried, but River is unlike anyone she's ever met before.

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A bottle of white, a bottle of red

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