get ready everybody 'cause here we go
WHO: Saoirse, Herian & open.
WHAT: a combined birthday hangout.
WHEN: 30th Haring.
WHERE: The Hanged Man.
NOTES: Drink up now and turn up hungover to the Firstday feast. Open invitation over here, no need to reply to the network post or even have prior cr in order to attend. Please add any warnings to subject lines if they come up.
WHAT: a combined birthday hangout.
WHEN: 30th Haring.
WHERE: The Hanged Man.
NOTES: Drink up now and turn up hungover to the Firstday feast. Open invitation over here, no need to reply to the network post or even have prior cr in order to attend. Please add any warnings to subject lines if they come up.
"Party" would be an extreme word for it; the more accurate word would be "casual gathering of people with liquor readily available." It is The Hanged Man, though, so who knows what shenanigans could unfold.
They've taken over a corner of the inn, and though there isn't much in the way of decorations - making sure the place could be easily accessed after all that snow was work enough - there are a couple of strings of bunting.
Don't get too wild; it'd be unfortunate if Herian had to interrupt her own (shared) birthday celebration in the sake of preserving the Inquisition's reputation. (Or do get wild, and simply shrug it off as The Hanged Man's influence. Whatever.)
Be sure of one thing, though - at least one round is one Herian. Maybe. If you're a close friend, or look particularly glum.

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"Hi! I'm Cosima Niehaus. I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but..." She gives Herian an arch look (somewhat undermined by a lingering smile). "It's still great to meet you. And thanks for organizing all this." Since it is crystal clear that Herian would not have even mentioned her birthday if left entirely to her own devices.
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She is not grinning visibly but it is likely easily read on her voice. Nevertheless Saoirse allows herself to be steered along toward an unfamiliar face, she smiles warmly but cannot help knitting her brows curiously at Herian once that notable tense nervousness (whether she calls it that or not) appears.
It is not spoken on though as she turns a smile back to Cosima with another smile. "Cosima, it's a pleasure. I am also lacking in my knowledge of you myself," she says chuckling. "But at least we may but an end to that tonight. I am glad you are enjoying yourself though as it was my hope to end this year off on a good note since I was so lucky to be reunited with Herian this year."
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Alas, that would be both a cowardly and an unkind thing to do, so she short of just… stands, awkwardly. There is no logical reason to be so tense, and yet here she is. This is fine, it’s just… two of the people she most cares about meeting each other. No reason to assume it will go poorly, and that isn’t even really the concern. She’s not sure she could even place why it is that she’s so tense. (Maybe because openly acknowledging feelings and emotional risks aren’t something she really allows herself, and maybe because they are both so important. Maybe something to do with that.)
“Would… either of you like some wine?” Smooth recovery.
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To Saoirsae, she says, "It was a reunion for me too, sort of -- Herian and I first met back at Skyhold, so I was thrilled she came to Kirkwall after she finished her mission." More confidentially, "When we first met, she very gallantly saved me from the fate of pulling rashvine with my bare hands out of ignorance."
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With another warm smile, she returns to Cosima with a chuckle. "How gallant indeed! Much like the knights from stories but she has always been so courageous. Once, as children, she dove into a bramble bush to save me when I got stuck chasing after a cat."
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“I deserve no such praise,” she replies quietly to them both, though there’s something very faintly concerned in it. They aren’t making fun of her, there is no mockery in the words, and yet... she is a little self-conscious. After a moment, though, there is the faintest suggestion of a smile being sheperded away, and she finally allows, “But I must clarify; it was the cat I was attempting to rescue, not you.”
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She only chuckles lightly before returning her gaze to Cosima with a thoughtful hum. "Since we were newborns," she says. "Her mother was there to help my mother in my delivery despite being only days from giving birth herself."
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“I think the cat was the only one who escaped a lecture,” she confirms, “which was far worse than the brambles.”
She nods confirmation of the claim. “My mother was a notoriously stubborn woman. She regarded caring for others as the highest calling.” Which could make for lean times, as there was no turning away of those in need of aid, but for strong veins of respect through the community, despite her status as half-breed. Well - Herian allows a slight amendment. “And making tea. We drank a great deal of tea. ”
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That wish had turned out to be ironic, but this is certainly not the time to dwell on that.
"And tea is definitely a thing that goes great with caring for others. It's very important." Especially in a world that, to Cosima's knowledge, does not include coffee.
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Still Saoirse certainly knew what it meant to be separated from a sibling.
"Almost twins," she says with a laugh. "Oh yes, I very much agree. If not for her mother's tea then I am sure my father would have been giving me coffee instead."
Which is only met with the sticking out of her tongue, ugh.
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It's not an obvious exhibition of support, perhaps, but she brings the hand not entwined with Cosima's across to lightly trace over her knuckles, even if it is the barest expression of increased contact.
"Alienage coffee," Herian muses, with a touch of despair. "I imagine there is a reason I've no memory of what that tastes like."
Repress The Hell out of that devil's brew. "Although I've an uncle who I think probably fermented it into something more than a little ill-advised. Do you remember Alroy?" Or, she sighs, remembering, "Or Tattie-Bogle, as he was better known."
Capable of making booze out of anything: Tattle-Bogle.
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