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WHO: Vivienne and YOU
WHAT: Madame de Fer is returned to the Inquisition and open to deliver opinions. About everything.
WHEN: End of Firstfall through the beginning of Haring. about a week
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Vivienne is her own warning.

It's been a few weeks since Vivienne was last present with the main body of the Inquisition. There had been a matter of great importance to attend to in Val Royeaux. Alas, much as she'd quite prefer to stay by Bastien's side, especially now, she knows far too well that this is the place she needs to be. The Inquisition has the potential to shake Thedas to its very foundations and she is determined to be present when that dust settles. The loss of the Herald is a grave blow to the fledgling organization, but that merely spurs her on all the more determined to see this through to the bitter end. There will be time enough later for personal grief.

It doesn't take her long at all to lay claim to the balcony overlooking the main hall of the fortress. In short order, she's got herself a quaint sitting room set up with the best views available. There's quite a pile of books she's brought with her as well. Anyone who's curious or just observant will notice that when she's by herself, she seems quite engrossed in some manner of research, reading intently or taking notes. Those with the knowledge or true skills of perception will note that the books seem an esoteric collection of magical theory and alchemical discourses. Even while busy with this pet project of hers, she remains poised like a queen seated in state to permit a miniature court to be held with herself presiding. Naturally.

She does have other business to attend to. The leadership of the Inquisition must be made to see the importance of how the group presents itself. Certainly the quartermaster is doing his best to see everyone outfitted, but there's still new recruits who are little better than scruffy ragamuffins milling about. There is a need for funds to keep everyone fed and armed, and for that they must at least look like a respectable group, not like a gang of alienage starvlings looking for a handout. Yes, if one espies the Iron Lady marching across the fortress with a determined glint in her eye, it's to seek out those who matter and are in a position to correct this terrible atrocity of poor style.

Not everything is all lazy reading and fashion organization. Despite choosing fine silks with gems as her attire (finished off with creative hats) at all times, Vivienne doesn't neglect the very necessary attention needed to practice her Knight-Enchanter skills. There's no mistaking her for a mage, as she lobs ice at her chosen training dummy out in the courtyard. The surprising behavior is her sudden calling up a sword out of thin air, taking a melee-range method of attack mingled in with the magic. And yet somehow, despite this very real exertion, Vivienne somehow manages not to break a sweat. Maybe that's the chill of being high in the mountains, however.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's true, Vivienne's brand of kindness comes laced with cold practicality and a sense of self-preservation. This is not so much different than any other case of taking matters into her own hands for a novella's list of reasons. Still, it's plaidweave.

"Ah but now I've gone and made you the offer of a gift, darling. I'm quite certain I have just the thing." Something which does not clash in hideous ways with the elf's coloring and facial tattoos. Really, what do these Dalish do out in their wildernesses?

She makes a motion with her hand towards her favorite roost overlooking the Great Hall. Naturally she expects Pel to follow her, but the offer to rid Thedas of that horrid fabric also gives her an opportunity to learn more about this particular mage. There's so many of them now.

Pel follows like she's being drawn by a magnet, trying to come up with a polite way of refusing a gift from a stranger. Gifts are too intimate for strangers to give them.

As Vivienne begins to sort through her ostensibly large collection of garments and accessories, she breaks from the process with an almost pleasant smile. She's also quite avoiding having that dreadful scarf land within her field of vision. Gracious.

"This shant take but a moment, I'm sure. Tell me, have you any word from your clan yet, my dear?" Assuming she still has a clan to be in contact with. They are quite evasive when they choose to be, and for all she knows, this particular elf may have parted on bad terms with them. Either way, the Iron Lady is wanting to know more.

It's obvious that Vivienne isn't dawdling intentionally by the extreme care and attention she's giving to the process of sorting through the scarves she has with her. Nor is she being cheap. Lesser things are being laid aside just as much as are silk and satin jewel-encrusted pretties. There is a particular item she's looking for and is taking great pains to select precisely the right one.

"Yes." Ugh, idle talk. Pel never saw the point in talking when you have nothing to say.

After another minute or so of searching, Vivienne finally finds what she was looking for. Perhaps. She actually goes to the effort to hold this one up to assess if it goes as well with Pel's coloring as she thought. Doing so also manages to block the view of that horrid yellow. The scarf itself is quite pretty: a pale green silk brocade with silver threads in a leafy floral motif. The green is of a complimentary shade to the elf's facial tattoos and the silver almost an exact match for her hair.

"Mmm yes, I do believe this is just the thing. It really does light your eyes." Not a false compliment in the least. The contrast of the colors does make Pel's eyes pop in a bright way.

She refolds the fabric with great care, respectful of the artistry of the work that went into its creation then holds it out for the taking.

There's a stunned pause. Pel looks utterly lost when presented with the garment.

It is literally the most beautiful thing she has ever been allowed to touch. She's not quite sure she's really allowed to touch it. But she is. It's a gift. This piece of art is being offered to her.

Pale hands stretch out over the fabric, flex, and then draw back hesitantly. Then, with the reverence she would give Mythal's own cloak, she touches, careful not to brush her rough fingertips over the fabric. It could catch and snag.

She hasn't breathed this entire time. A choked gasp is sucked in.

"For me?" A wild pauper with sandpaper hands? Is Vivienne certain?

"Of course, darling." There is a most genuine and warm smile for Pel. Honestly, Vivienne can appreciate the awe she sees unfolding before her in the elf woman. Beautiful things should be admired. She is not so many years in her home shared with Bastien that she's forgotten what it was like to have not as much. Not that she can remember her parents, but one did not have quite as many luxuries as a Circle apprentice as one does as a Duke's mistress.

A slight nudge to encourage Pel to shed that horrible plaidweave, but also to reassure her that the scarf is now quite hers, she prompts, "Why don't you try it on, my dear?"

The plaid slips away. Pel manages to wrap the new scarf so she can still see it when she looks down at herself. A shining smile is growing on her face.

"It's beautiful," she breathes.

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