faderift | Out flew the web and floated wide-

[If asked, Morrigan will admit to having enjoyed her prior trip to Serault though this is a place that clearly doesn't live up to the potential it may have. Yet there is something off about the air here as she draws the group to a halt on the outskirts.

The war doesn't seem to have touched Serault the way it might other towns, not so far to the west as it is but still there is something very much amiss. Why else would she have brought such a team as this for a friendly invitation quite out of the blue to thank her for her patronage?]

[Feel free to have some chatter back and forth before our npc friend shows up to escort everyone in. He is going to be so thrilled at some of you. Look at those mages. Those elves. That dalish elf mage. What is the lesser evil in his life Maker have mercy.]

"Something's not right," Kain grumbles as they approach the area. He's not sure he can even quite put his finger on it, but he generally has a good sense for when it seems like trouble is about to erupt. His hand goes instinctively to his sword. He glances toward the others to see what they think.

Bruce was pretty much a stranger to the Serrault area - he had passed by before once or twice in the past, but never lingered long, so he couldn't know enough to know what was really wrong or not.

But if they were saying so... "Best to not jump to conclusions yet." There was certainly an odd tension in the air, but as far as he heard Serrault was a pretty weird place in general. "Best to better see what's happening before deciding what to do."

When last Morrigan had been to Serault, there had been work to be done though that hadn't stopped her from poking at a few other things that had invited her curiosity. This time there is no one to greet them and that--

Well, with the invitation that prompted their departure from Skyhold, it has her sighing sharply through her nose. "Last I came here, I remember more children playing in the streets." A place she might even have brought Kieran had circumstances been different, had her reputation not made that something of an impossibility. "Perhaps the demand in glass is far less at a time like this. Serault has little else to offer but a surfeit of shame."

"Wars are not prosperous times."

This from Sabine, who leans low in her saddle to cross her arms against its horn as she squints at their destination, loosely wrapped in mist. She is nearly nondescript in her forest greens and greys, robust leathers, but she has a quiver of arrows lashed amongst her travel effects and hasn't taken pains to pretend she is an elven servant instead of an agent of the Inquisition. Her shard, at least, is wrapped and covered.

Her tone of voice is a hint skeptical, anyway. They know -- they think they know -- what they're walking into, and excusing their better instincts seems unwise. "For most," she amends. Wars are prosperous times to some, Maker knows.

Edited (i remember my genre) 2016-11-23 00:47 (UTC)

"You must think of all the glass that has been shattered in the Dales," Jehan says, calm and content in a way that borders on inattentiveness—though he is paying some attention, up on his horse. The necessary amount of attention. It is for others to note incoming attacks or signs of fights. He won't be of any use himself until there are people to measure, or more than their absence to measure them by.

He is, in fact, craning his head back to look at the sky overhead, more interested in the weather than anyone's general feelings of malaise. He has made this journey with Wardens, mages, and elves—it's about time someoneelse felt any discomfort. But he lowers his chin now and gives the town ahead a cursory glance.

Velanna prickles a little at the mention of the Dales. It's a compulsory movement and she's not entirely in control of it. Deep-coded into her DNA all that rage about the stolen homelands and all. She has managed to be polite (for her) this whole trip and to her credit doesn't make a snarky remark about how it was probably glass originally forged by elven hands that was being destroyed.

"It would be a waste to commission more of something that will just get broken again while the war continues to rage," she says calmly to the air in front of her, rather than directing it in any direction.

At times this has all felt a little too close to a bad joke told in a tavern or in a parlour; pick three of them and have them walk into a different tavern together, riotous laughter ensues only there's seven of them if she includes herself, and they've all ridden into Serault together. Her invitation could burn a neat little hole through the pouch she's stashed it in on the journey.

"If there is to be profit made from any of this," just sharp enough to catch the attention of this ragged little company and not the few milling about to gawp at them, eyes sliding past because look at the elves and look at the mages. "Then let it be for the Inquisition and Serault. I wish to know why an invitation comes now of all times."

Which is about the perfect time for a man to come up to them, rather taken aback because yes, yes he knows Morrigan but oh. Oh dear there are so many mages. And elves. Not elf singular but elf plural and could that--. Perhaps only Jehan because even a man of Serault would know gentle birth would grant him a moment to forget how to speak when he claps eyes on the fact that there is a Dalish mage amongst the assembled party. Andraste have mercy on your weary servant, he did not ask for any part of this.

Only he can't speak, or approach so he's just going to stand. Awkwardly. At a distance. His hands fluttering about himself as you perhaps debate amongst yourselves or someone wants to point at him. Be cool, Louis, you have totally got this.

Ciri simply listens on in silence as she idly pets at Kelpie's dark mane. The mare snorts, digging a hoof into the soft dirt and the Warden cuts her eyes among the mist covered grounds. There is little to make out but the silence beyond the group's chatter is bothersome, eerie almost and she makes a gesture to the buckle of her sword belt across her chest.

She does not like it but her face does not betray her until something disturbs the silence she has been so focused on. Pulling at Kelpie's reigns, she turns and narrows her eyes. Needless to say Louis' presence is soon met with furrowed brows but she relaxes quickly with a sigh, glancing over her shoulder.

"We have company." She says, jerking a thumb toward poor Louis.

Bruce turns to glance over at the Orelsian (the one who wasn't Sabine) for a moment at his remark, though he doesn't say anything out loud particularly. Other people might have, perhaps, but Bruce considers himself one of the last person to really be able to respond to anything at all. His own views tend to be different from most, and as long as nothing terrible happens, he can work with almost anything.

Either way, that wasn't the issue at hand now.

"I guess we're going to find out," he mutters after Ciri points out their approaching company. Bruce nudges his dracolisk (still very much unnamed) to turn around so that he can properly face them, glancing over to Morrigan this time. She is the one who had the invitation after all, so its probably best for her to decide.

Edited 2016-11-25 10:45 (UTC)

This comment from Jehan gets an eyerolled glance from Sabine, side-along, but the murmured indications of company spare them all from any sniping. She urges her horse along with a nudge of her heels, and can't help but meet, frankly, some of the stares she receives. She's up on a horse, under an Inquisition banner, and there's no need to feign deference.

Bruce glances to Morrigan, and likewise, Sabine keeps her mouth shut too even as she eyes up this man with open frankness. Should his eyeline wander to her, she has a smile for him, sharp and ready.

Jehan receives no such eyerolling from Louis because oh, a man of taste. A good sign even if he is amongst such company which is what prompts a phrase that comes from memory, trotted out tonelessly but to a tune that might be a rhyme children would sing. If they were on the streets.

"Glass so clear and worth the price, as kicks of light catch color twice. Lady Morrigan, it is a pleasure to see you once again. My lords, my lady," Jehan, Kain, and Ciri are all given a look in turn and an incline of the head. "Allow me to introduce myself; Louis Chastain, representative of the Serault Glassworks."

"Such a large party, however, was...unexpected." He doesn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he's wringing his hands until he looks down at them, as if they're not his hands even though they very much are. When he looks up at them all again his eyes are blank, unfocussed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly and it takes long enough again for him to come back to himself that Morrigan finds herself glancing about at the assembled company with a raised brow because Serault is odd but it wasn't this odd before.

"The rumours of the Inquisition, why even here we heard them but so many mages, so many rabbits," Louis prattles on because well this is a subject that at least feels more comfortable with. "You encountered no difficulties?"

He will listen to anyone but. You know Orlesians. Especially one that seems to be a bit of an odd duck, to put it kindly.

At the man's approach, Kain moves his hand slightly from his sword, not wanting to give the wrong impression. Though he's still ready to draw it in a moment's notice. Like the others, he's glad to largely defer to Morrigan. He takes a careful glance around the area, before returning his attention to Louis.

Oh, so it's like that, is it? Of course it is. There are some things he doesn't miss much about Orlais in general, plenty of really good reasons why he feels more at home among the Wardens. He's not so much surprised by Louis' attitude itself, but there's some additional... oddity... there. Morrigan's look doesn't go unnoticed either. Yes. All right. Something is amiss. But how will they uncover it?

"Easy," Kain murmurs to his dracolisk, patting her gently after she fidgets a little. He shrugs, then, having figured he wouldn't speak much if at all, but deciding for now to make one remark, "It was no more difficult than one might expect from crossing Orlais." You know, war torn nation and all, not to mention all the normal travel problems... the bears and so on.

She's used to ignorant humans, but that doesn't mean she has to sit there and enjoy it. Her eyes narrow so severely that they look like little more than glittering slits in her face as she stares down at the Orlesian from her horse.

"Perhaps you shouldn't draw attention to us by singling us out, shem," sure that's an insult that generally goes over human heads, certainly it will if he thinks calling them rabbits aloud is acceptable, but it makes her feel a little better. No one said she isn't petty. "We are all the same under the banner of the Inquisition and here for a single purpose."

There is a quiet moment where Ciri simply glances over to Velanna from where she sits and listens as the woman speaks, lips quirking into a half smile. Her eyes flicker back toward Louis with a curious tilt of her head before tiredly shrugging her shoulders at the mention of difficulties.

As war torn as Orlais was it seemed they managed to keep a wide enough berth from any of the warring factions scattered about.

"Agreed," she says, adjusting the reigns as Kelpie digs at the ground with her hoof once more. "Let us not prattle on with inconsequential talk when we've come here with a purpose and on Serault's invitation. The faster we get to work, the faster we shall be out of your hair."

Edited 2016-11-28 19:44 (UTC)

"You rather single yourselves out, I believe." In this at least, Louis is bold and he straightens himself, unaccustomed to looking up at an elf in such a way. "If you will all dismount? It will all go more easily on foot. You have come all this way unharmed, untroubled, even such a-- unique party such as yourselves, continuing on foot-"

Morrigan swings herself down from the saddle (lacking in grace, she spends so little time on a horse because she's had very little need of them in her life) to cut him off. "A tour of the glassworks, that is what was offered. We would see them directly." And to prompt him into the actual leading so that those who might be best suited for getting a look around as they go, she starts moving since she does remember the way herself anyway.

"All of us," she adds since she does have a title she could use, if she felt the need for it.

Bruce doesn't really think about it when he shifts to have his dracolisk (and thus himself by proxy) stand closer to Velanna and her mount. He knows he can take care of herself, but still--sometimes, he thinks darkly, humans are the true monsters of Thedas. He himself certainly was one.

He listens to the man prattle on for a while more before Morrigan smoothly interrupts him, and when she gets off her mount Bruce does the same a few moments later. Once he's on his feet the dracolisk happily nuzzles his face, forked tongue coming out and sloppily licking him in the face like a huge mabari.

Bruce splutters and gets his dracolisk to back off as quickly as he can while his face is drenched in dracolisk saliva. Nothing to see here, folks, just move along without him.

It's really hard not to roll his eyes at their guide, or add some snide remark. But Ciri is right, they need to get on with things. He's still watchful and wary, but so far... so good? Hopefully? He's certainly questioning just how accommodating their host really intends to be.

Kain does find some distraction and amusement in Bruce's dracolisk's reaction. What a spirited creature, he approves greatly. He pets his own dracolisk gently, whispering some calming words before dismounting. He's ready to move on, they came all this way for this tour after all.

"Lead the way."

Somehow in the commotion of such an arrival - of course she couldn't arrive with normal people riding normal mounts, oh no that wouldn't do - Louis had overlooked the dracolisks. Admirable, maybe. Or maybe there just comes a point where a man cannot endure much more and so he simply chooses to ignore it entirely.

"I trust they will not bite? Injury is understandable in our line of work - we must all sacrifice for our beauty," the smile is a knowing one, man to man from Bruce to Kain to Jehan as if to say ah, the soiree season of course and it does start brave to Morrigan and to Ciri but it freezes at Sabine. Dies a strangled little death at Velanna. He will forge on ahead as he must. As he has since this began. Easier with his back to them he finds. All he has to do is walk a path he knows well with them following and then his part is ended. "But to lose fingers to beasts? Rather uncalled for, wouldn't you say?"

"They prefer the hair of small boys," Morrigan interrupts, breezily bored as she glances over to windows where fewer curtains twitch than expected. Does that help Louis or not, she doesn't really care but better bald and maybe with a nibbled ear than missing a thumb and forefinger when you're working with tools.

Up ahead looms the glassworks, quite a grand operation but for something that is the heart of Serault, even those who don't know much about glassworks will note that there doesn't seem to be any sort of hustle or bustle. It could really be mistaken for closed. But it's Orlais. And Orlais never does stop, not for the wealthy or lovers of beautiful things, not even with a war raging across the land.

Out flew the web and floated wide-

arrival in Serault;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

suddenly, an npc in the not-so-distance

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject