faderift | [ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

WHO: Herian, Anders, Issana, Velanna, Pam, Malcolm
WHAT: A series of disappearances in the Orlesian countryside has culminated in the vanishment of some of the Inquisition's own scouts. A team has been sent to investigate the estate of one Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney.
WHEN: Over the span of 4 days in the 2nd week of Harvestmere.
WHERE: Estate of Comtesse Eléonore Vaillant de Veloney
NOTES: Trauma, gore, dark themes, homicide, pretentious wine usage, other things not labeled as to avoid spoilers.

Welcome to the Estate

It is a terrible misfortune, all these disappearances- but with a civil war on and all this strange Venatori and Red Templar activity- with the rifts in the countryside? People simply not appearing where they ought is a sad reality. Nothing to be done for it. That such an esteemed noblewoman has found herself unjustly accused simply due to her wealth and prosperity? Cannot stand. Comtesse de Veloney invited the Inquisition herself to investigate her manor and put the matter to rest- they are to be afforded all the cooperation and respect imaginable.

Even the mages. Even the elves.

They are met at the gate by a veritable delegation of footmen led by the Gardener and Tanner to see them inside and out of the stormy, dreary weather. Packs are secreted off to rooms (a lovely set of suites in the east wing if the Steward does say so herself), baths drawn (The Comtesse insists, it's been just dreadful and they've come all this way), and a lavish banquet prepared.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The weather has been keeping." Another blossom goes into the basket tucked at Edgar's elbow- dressed and not offbalance there's a certain delicacy to his motions, a poise that speaks of noble bearing or a solid attempt to mimic it. "...I apologize for earlier. It was...unseemly."

He's very Orlesian is what Anders is getting from what he's seeing, but not in an off-putting way.

"Don't worry about it. I've had my share of liasons in places where I wasn't supposed to." Behind the statue of Andraste, hidden between bookshelves, under a senior enchanter's desk... "I can't fairly judge someone else for that. And perhaps I should have given the two of you privacy rather than prying further, my apologies."

"You're here to find your people. We should be spending more time trying to help you and less absorbed in our own affairs." Another blossom, a lovely blue, is pulled from the bush, though he turns to approach Anders candidly. "How might I be of service?"

"I'm... curious, if I'm to be frank." If Edgar means that, Anders may as well take a chance. "Loupe was about to say something when you shushed him and he switched to noises. What was it he almost said?"

He reaches out to touch another of the flowers, though it's not fully bloomed and likely not of use to Edgar.

"Just that. Noises. My shushing him did nothing. Loupe is as stubborn as he is savage." There's a thin thread of fondness in the exasperated roll of his eyes. "He does as he likes, says what he pleases. But he was honest. Noises. Nothing to be frightened of."

Anders smiles at the fondness there, as slight as it is.

"The best men, I find, have a stubborn streak. The best women as well. In this world it's fairly key to surviving." He doesn't yet have an opening with Edgar, hasn't heard anything suspicious about the perfumer, so right now he just wants to get the man talking and see where it leads.

"If he were less stubborn, perhaps, and less proud he might deign to have an apprentice aide him in his work. Then he'd be less prone to wandering the woods for finding hides to tan and have to endure fewer hours working them. He'd have softer hands." Which would be enjoyable for any number of reasons.

"There's a thing to be said for soft hands. A very great deal to be said for them. But callouses in the right places can be fantastic as well."

There's only one reason Anders can think of to complain about one's lover not having the softest of hands. "I could also teach you how to make an herbal blend that can be used as a soak to soften hands."

"Is that how you keep yours so soft?" Edgar reaches out, then, fingertips brushing along the tips of Anders' fingers. A calculated gesture made gracefully, intent to tease. To tantalize. To entice.

He goes still as Edgar touches his fingers, mouth dry. Almost all the flirting that goes on around him, he's started, and aside from Zevran it's been a very long time since someone did that to him. He hadn't been prepared for it. A moment later he's swallowing and smiling, about to gently point out that he's taken... and then he's realizing this could be a way to get more insight in the case. But that feels shady and dishonest in a way he doesn't want to be and he's caught, hand still out where Edgar touched it.

"I... I mean, yes. I do a lot of work and it helps my skin, prevents skin breaking, especially in the cold and the like." Anders pulls his hand back now, thumb tracing over the spot touched.

"I'm sure you do something with yours. With the flowers?"

"I make lotion with some leftover pomade and beeswax from our apiary for my hands, but Loupe doesn't care for the scent." Apparently. Basket mostly full of blossoms he motions for Anders to follow, plucking one more violent bloom from the hedge. "I can show you- and where I work as I do not think any of you have seen it just yet. A private tour, yes?"

Yes. The Tannery is...well, it smells foul and remains downwind of the perfumery for a reason. Edgar unlocks his building with a silver key and leads Anders inside, walking to a long table nearest the window. Kept cool by the masonry from which it's made- the vats of fat and rack upon rack of glazed glass sealed with fat and petals line the walls. As he speaks, Edgar begins plucking petals from the flowers he collected. "Here is where I do my work. The fat is processed behind the slaughterhouse to remove it of any odor- pig fat is full of smells, you know, it is what makes pork so tasty- and then it is brought to me."

He's barely had time to make an affirmative noise before they're off and heading in. Pig fat to perfume? He'd known there were oils involved. He hadn't quite realized what sort of oils, apparently. It's a world he'd... not really expected to be introduced to.

"So the smells are taken out and then you put smells in." Anders gestures toward the flowers. "Can I help with those? Healer, used to working with herbs and flowers and the like. I may as well repay you for the private tour, especially if no one else has gotten to see here."

"Precicely. It takes three days to go from pure, untainted fat to saturate it fully. It used to take multiple passes with the blossoms but with the ash that Roland spreads around the roots? Everything is so much more fragrant. It's easier to make a saturated pomade with fewer blossoms." Making his job easier. "If you like. Mind the stems- a few of them are prickly. Even the loveliest blossom has it's teeth on occasion. You must treat them gently."

"Ash... from the bonepit?" Anders takes a stem gently, looking it over and making his question seem like just a reflex. "I do like treating lovely blossoms with the care they require."

He pulls the petals off lightly, placing them where Edgar is. "I don't like to do the opposite. Too many have had the opposite done to them, willing or not, and it's not my thing." Now deflowered, the stem is set down right next to Edgar before he picks up another. For all the flirting, though, Anders doesn't want to mislead. He can't question like that and feel all right about himself.

"Nor is cheating. You're beyond lovely, but you're involved with Loup, and I'm involved with a man as well. I'll gladly flirt all day with you, but I can't lead you on and feel like I'm being fair to him or you, or myself either."

"Gabriella cleans them, sends the soup bones to the kitchens and dries the rest in that pit. Then they're ground into meal and mixed with ashes from the smokehouse, the compost, the stems we have here-" Edgar sweeps the few he'd amassed into a bin below the table. "And trimmings from the hedges. That's scattered around the base of of each plant once every two weeks or so- more if needed."

When planting something new, more is scattered but that goes without saying.

Edgar continues happily plucking petals, murmuring under his breath 'me, me not, me, me not' as Anders oh so delicately cuts to the quick of the matter. Edgar- well. Huffs a faint pout, but doesn't press the issue. "I was hoping to make him a little jealous. Consider being more attentive and less coming around only for a good railing. I'm a person, no a pleasure slave. And you ruin it be being decent. How dare you, Ser."

There's a bittersweet edge to his smile, though. How very dare.

Anders reaches over and puts a hand on top of Edgar's.

"I wasn't saying we couldn't stay in here and make him a little jealous. If he's not giving you what you deserve, then maybe he should be allowed to believe you have... company."

This is something he's comfortable doing, and he's glad it could be an option. Being friendly, caring, and not using someone.

"We're in here, privately, I can mess up my hair and let you tell Loupe whatever you'd like. Or imply whatever you'd like. I know my partner will trust me even if any rumors leak."

"And now you are being delightfully indecent in a decent manner." Edgar manages a crackle of laughter, turning his hand over to squeeze Anders' fingertips. "I can see why Narcisse is taken with you, Ser. Well, as much as he is taken with anyone. Some days it is difficult to tell."

He chuckles, looking off to the side for a moment. It's weird, and nice, and weirdly nice to hear people are taken with him. Even more weird when some of them are murder suspects. But right now Edgar, Narcisse, and the cook are very low on his list of who is likely responsible.

"Depending on how many cups, or bottles, he is in?" But it's mildly asked. "He seems a gentle soul, if a bit sloshed."

He gives Edgar's hand a gentle squeeze back. "So let's take our time in here, plucking flowers and talking." A beat. "Is there any interesting gossip you don't think we might have heard yet?"

"He never seems to be wholly sober- though I do wonder why he suddenly started drinking so much. It wasn't always like this- even Gabriella was a little more cheerful. Impossible to imagine, I know, but-" Edgar shrugs. "They're not miserable just. Different, now."

Six years and suddenly the bottle is so much more appealing than your woman. Odd.

"That depends on if you've spoken to Ignatia and her girls yet, she knows everything."

Gabriella. The butcher. The implication is there that Narcisse might know something and he's drinking more to deal with it. Anders files that away, frowning lightly for a moment.

"When did the drinking turn heavier? Because I've spoken with Ignatia, but I got my fortune told. Clearly I should have gone for gossip instead."

"Oh- about five, six years ago? She'd been here for two years and they fell in...whatever they'd been in after a few months. It was only an extra glass or so a day, but you know how it is. After awhile that's not enough so you have more. He hasn't made himself unfit or ill- we try to keep him away from anything dangerous and he's always as close to sober as far as we can tell when important guests are around." Narcisse does take his job very seriously after all.

Delicate twists of the wrist flick petals from the blossoms in rapid succession, not a single one bruised. "It was sudden, the shift in her mood. That was when she became surly and really began to have it in for Ignatia. If she were younger I'd have thought Gabriella assumed Ignatia was seducing him but- you've seen her? More like a grandmother than anything else. So there's more than petty jealousy at work there but- they work in different buildings and I work with Loupe more than with either of them. It doesn't affect me."

Narcisse with the butcher. Well that's something else entirely. If it's the butler at fault with Edgar and Clara, then it could make sense that Narcisse would drink more heavily. He's trying to ignore what's going on despite his heart? But why did it start then, five, six years ago, and not ten? What happened then?

"When you're not in the same building, it's hard to keep track of things. And you've a lover who isn't that conscientious to concern yourself about. I understand." Somewhat. Losing a child could account for drinking and surliness, but not murdering. Which is going to get Edgar caught up in the middle if he's innocent, and Anders feels sorry yet again for the perfumer. It can't be easy when the person you care about is caught up in something else and killing people.

"So. We've plenty of time to kill, you're not sure of the reason behind the moodshift... Pick a topic as we mess with Loupe?" ...Which might be a really dumb idea, considering where Ignacia put him on the scale of things, but Anders is good at having dumb ideas.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ CLOSED ] WAR TABLE: INVESTIGATE COMTESSE DE VELONEY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject