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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Felix hadn't gone to the meeting. It wasn't that he disliked the other mages, but more that he thought this issue was one that they needed to work out themselves. He wasn't Southern and he didn't have the same talent as Dorian. That and he wasn't going to be around long enough to have much of a say on anything they did.

That said, he was interested to find out how it went. Once he found out there was going to a bit of a gathering for people to wind down after the meeting, he found his way down from his quarters to where they had set up.

He doesn't try to enter just yet. He doesn't exactly feel comfortable carrying food or drink and offering it up for others to eat. Instead he lingers by the entrance and keeps an eye out for any face he knows. He might be looking for a particularly handsome face with a fetching mustache, but he's not too picky.

Edited 2015-11-06 23:27 (UTC)

She lingered close to the tents anyway, when she wasn't meandering through the castle. Simon usually preferred her close to the tents where he might keep an eye on her. So when there's a larger number of people around the area than usual, investigation seems the natural course of action. She was by nature a curious girl, and there was a lot to sift through.

Things were anxious, tightly wound, skittering, but trying to unknot and unravel. Lubrication of the alcoholic variety, then. The wine wasn't really to her taste. She found one bottle uncorked, sniffing the lip delicately before wrinkling her nose and quickly passing it off before investigating another.

She might well end up uncorking all of them, if allowed to.

After that meeting, Korrin is just as drained as everyone else...perhaps among those who were just a little more so, given how irate and vocal she was during a good portion of it. She has no regrets in standing up for herself or anyone else not interested in the Circles, but the list of rules is taken to heart as she arrives with a couple of bottles of West Hill Brandy. If she's given people headaches, it's the least she can do to make it up to them, right?

She'll plop down wherever seems comfortable, close to the tables, snagging a mug instead of being rude and drinking straight from the bottle. Whenever company approaches, she'll flash them a tired smile and pour them a mug as well. "Here, go ahead. For Ferelden stuff, it's not bad."

Adelaide had set herself in the back with a mug of red and one of her apprentices unwinding her long braid to rework it into something looser, easier. Something that wouldn't quite add so much to her growing migraine. There may have been a book propped up for her to read somewhere but for the moment she simply lounged, her eyes closed, moving only to sip from her mug now and again. This wasn't the worst idea anyone might have had and honestly? If she didn't have to move for the next hour or so she would be deeply pleased.

But if company came to her she would pour them a mug and offer a thin smile. Comment on the weather, offer something Orlesian as adverse to Fereldan- clearly it was the superior wine.

Pel arrives with some good, dry cider and pours herself a tall cup of it before joining the crowd. She needs a couple drinks, after that meeting. She sits on the ground, letting others take the proper seats. Pansy shems afraid of dirt.

Since she's not used to being idle and didn't bring any work with her, she starts to take down and rebraid her hair. It is long hair, and she can braid it intricately without paying too much attention while she talks with people. It's something for the hands to do.

"You-" Adelaide has had enough to warrant wandering, braid a loose tail down her back. "You I owe a drink."

It hadn't been terribly elegant, the way she finished her point, but it was decisive enough to warrant a drink or five. Adelaide offers a mulled red, spiced and heated through. "For a point eloquently made."

Ellana waits until it appears that plenty of people have arrived before she comes in, carrying a basket with some apples nestled inside. She lays them out on the table, making sure they don't roll before carrying her empty basket over to Pel and taking a seat.

"How did it go?" she asks. It would have been easy enough to attend herself, but she felt she'd have had nothing worth saying.

Ellana comes by to fill her cup, taking note of the girl sniffing the bottles. She watches for a moment, green eyes curious before she speaks.

"Do you need help deciding on one?"

Christine is exhausted, but trying her best not to show it. She still walks with her head high and back straight as she maneuvers to find a place to sit. Once she spies Adelaide, however, she changes course to sit beside her and only then do her shoulders slump a little.

"I'm relieved that's over with."

Galadriel had not attended the meeting but, in the end, she had not needed to. The architecture of the keep did not lend itself overmuch to secrecy and the raised voices that resounded through the rotunda spilled into the rafters of the Great Hall. The din was a bright cacophony of anger and argument but, apart from the occasional familiar note, Galadriel lacked the information required to be invested in the outcome of it all. Yes, she had been given a framework of this world's issues, but little more.

As the arguments circled around, Galadriel moved to the balcony above the courtyard. It was easy to distract herself with the horizon and the sky above. When she finally looked down, the arguing had ceased and there was something afoot below. The light and atmosphere around the healing tents was at odds with the strain of the meeting and, curious, Galadriel decided to investigate.

She marked the party sign but, ultimately, it went unheeded. She still couldn't read the language of Thedas.

The wine was not as plentiful as it should have been, but the space was warm and welcome. It was habit that drew her to the table with the bottles and, in short order, she found herself opening a bottle and pouring wine into the cups arrayed near it. It should have seemed strange, serving strangers wine, but she had done this task for so long that it was, perhaps, the least strange thing she'd experienced in Thedas.

"They're very confusing..." She selects another, without looking up immediately.

"One bottle makes his eyes water and remember his father's disappointment. The other has laughter and stories, and it bubbles, but it's always so bitter after. Sharp, like elfroot tonic...something in the fermentation process. It's hiding."

Another cork is plucked loose with a particularly stubborn tug. One whiff is all she needs before making a face, her tongue sticking out, before handing the bottle off to the pretty elf.

"For talking to girls and saying the words wrong, remembering in the morning. Terrible idea. He'll want that."

Cyril had managed to track down a collection of fruits, apples and pears mostly, which could be paired with wine easily enough. He seemed much more interested in the people around him than any of the wines or drinks though.

He kept an apple to munch on and then wandered around the tent for a moment, taking in the faces and eavesdropping on conversation when he could.

"Everything all right?" he asks when he sees Pel. The whole thing about mages has made him a little worried for her, and Ellana, and even Sam (though that last one he's not likely to admit to anyone). He's curious how it went but he addresses her well being first.

Her sanity is much more important to him, after all.

Her words are confusing. Obviously she's talking about others, but who? Not those who already drank from these bottles, because she's uncorking them. They're newly opened. Those who bottled them, perhaps? But how could this girl know that? Is she making up stories?

Taking the offered bottle, she sniffs it too, nose scrunching up a little. It is rather strong.

"That's strong," she says in echo of what she's thinking. "But who are you speaking of? Who will want this?"

On seeing Galadriel (and how could one miss a lady so fair and so tall), Ellana heads over with her empty cup for a refill of wine.

"Aneth ara. That is how we say hello." Which someone else could have already told Galadriel already, but as Ellana doesn't know, she explains now. "It's nice to see people sitting together peacefully, isn't it?"

"Wh...?" She's not going to complain, but Pel does smile as she takes the mulled wine. Ooh, warm and it smells wonderful! She warms her hands on it briefly, grinning up at the cool Orlesian mage who was sensible and awesome the entire meeting.

"What point did I make?"

Similarly drained, Korrin nonetheless has a list of people she wanted to speak with and Adelaide is on it. During the meeting, she made mental notes of who said something worth supporting, or having the thankless task of holding the meeting together. Naturally, the Orlesian mage comes to mind. Pleasantly mellow after finishing off that glass of brandy, Korrin wanders over while unable to decide what she wants next.

Plopping down in a nearby seat, the Vashoth woman flashes a weary but genuine -and perhaps slightly apologetic- smile. "I owe you a drink for all that, you know. If you get tired of what you have and want something else, at least let me snag it for you."

At some point in his search, he catches Ellana's eye and she stands, heading over to him at the entrance. She can guess his reasons for staying on the perimeter, since he seems the type to keep his background quiet, as opposed to the flashy magisters who attended the meeting.

"Hello. Were you interested in learning the outcome of the meeting? I didn't go, but my clan mate told me all about it."

Beleth will slip over to Pel, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Here, lethallan--Let me." And if Pel will allow, Beleth will move behind her, and before even beginning to braid, will begin to attempt to surreptitiously pick bits of the hastily made confetti out of her hair. And a few cloth scraps that were too small to bother keeping. She doesn't know how any of this got here Pel. How could you even think of such a thing.

"You did a good job at the meeting." Beleth told her, as deft fingers worked through her hair. "The Keeper would be proud." Of course, making the Keeper proud seemed to come naturally to Pel, but this is neither the place, nor the time to mention that. "You'll do a good job of representing us, lethallan. Or, the Dalish mages, I guess."

"Aneth ara," Galadriel repeated idly and refilled Ellana's cup. As she did, she glanced about the party. Though there was a sense of weariness, the lights and cushions were welcoming; peaceful was an appropriate word.

"It is a welcome sight," Galadriel agreed and set the bottle aside as she took up a clay mug of her own. She took a sip of the red wine. The flavor was unfamiliar but not unpleasant and she delighted in it, briefly.

"I know many greetings but they are long and not made for such parties, perhaps it is best to simply say well met? Did you attend the discussions?"

Cyril had heard a bit about her from rumor around Skyhold. Seeing her, though. That was different.

She was so tall. Her skin and face were beautiful and it seemed like every movement of her body was made from grace itself. It was possible that he was exaggerating in his awe, though.

Is this what we are meant to be? he thought as he watched her.

He really didn't want to stand there slack jaw and heart broken, though. Not when he had a chance to speak with her.

"So I just have to know what parties are like where you're from," he asked by way of greeting. His face has broken into a bit of a mischievous smile. There's no hint of the ache he felt by looking at her. He couldn't blame her for the fall of the elves any more than he could blame any other Rifter. "Unless you'd rather talk about what we can do to improve this one, of course."

Not the most ceremonious greeting, but he wasn't sure what a real elf would do in this situation.

He smiles at the sight of her and feels a blush come to his face that has little to do with the fevers he gets.

"That obvious?" he asks, still smiling. "Clearly I missed the 'remaining dark and mysterious' lessons magister's sons are meant to attend when they're young."

On spotting the qunari (or Tal Vashoth, or whatever word she prefers to use) sitting there, Christine has to come over, because that had been quite a debate back there, and this woman had pulled no punches. She lifts a brow at the comment, but takes the offered mug.

"I am Orlesian, so I must be extra harsh on Ferelden wine." She takes a sip and, all right, it isn't as bad as she expected. "I wished to say that you brought up good points at the meeting, and I am pleased you made your voice heard."

Once more, Galadriel's height helps pick her out among the rest. Korrin, returning to the table, meets her with a weary but welcoming smile. Hers was definitely among the raised voices in the rotunda, growing louder and angrier every time the subject of the Circles came up. Now, however, that temper has subsided and she's much more mellow thanks to some appeasement during the meeting...and some drinks.

"Excellent, I was thinking about a refill. Come to watch us collapse into a tired, drunken mess? Though this is honestly the better of the outcomes I was imagining...."

The other would have been another brawl, ending with who knows how many people in the cells. Korrin's just fine not picturing that outcome in any detail. It's bad enough that it could have happened.

Beleth will be lingering in the background--much like she had for the meeting. Her eyes darted around at the mages in question, pretty sure that nobody would give her too hard of a time for listening it--or providing a momentary distraction. Krem had done a better job at that, anyway.

She watches mages interact with a careful eye, though she wanders over to the food and drink eventually. She had brought some freshly baked bread, sliced up, and put with butter. She'll nibble here and there, trying new things, and try some of the wine. She's never had wine before--Something that becomes clear as soon as she sips the wine, and gives it the most disgruntled expression possible.

"People willingly drink this...?" She muttered, more to herself than anyone else, and then took another sip, expression only slightly less perturbed.

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A bottle of white, a bottle of red

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i just need more awkward already

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I'm sorry to spew emotions at you. But I bet a few of Dalish have thought this about her already :')

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