get ready everybody 'cause here we go

[dashing]

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.

"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.

Comments

[elegiaque]

"The Dalish have no place in that conversation," is her blunt conclusion, shrugging as an (...elven) maid brings in the mulled wine that she'd rung for earlier. "If they don't like that, that's no one's problem but theirs and entirely the product of their own foolishness. I doubt they'll like whatever happens to it, but it isn't for them to like or not like."

She passes Herian a warm glass, adding, "Your life will be easier when you stop taking other people's stupidity on your shoulders."

was NOT one inflicted on the Inquisiton, fml thanks hands

[dashing]

“No,” Herian agrees, though she does not look satisfied. “But they have lost the one who planted the forest, and… I thought it would be kinder to try and preserve some very small part of that, if it could be done in such a way that would appeal to the Chantry.”

She accepts the wine, but waits to sip until her host has done so.

“We need the Chantry if we are to rally support to our cause instead of opposition. Someone must see amends made, and I am part of the Chantry Relations Project.” Who else will do it? “We cannot fight Corypheus by endlessly avoiding matters that must be addressed.”

i knew what u meant bb

[elegiaque]

"Steal a cutting or a small tree and replant it if you absolutely must," with a roll of her eyes. "It isn't as if as it stands it's any kind of monument her loved ones can visit or benefit from. They're hardly losing anything in whatever happens. They didn't gain anything in the first place."

A shake of her head, tasting the wine and then drinking deeper, "Cosseting the woodland creatures isn't going to get them anywhere in the long run, Herian. No one cares what they think, least of all Kirkwall's Chantry. And we're on damned thin ice as it is. If they're a liability..."

Well, she wouldn't miss them if they all went back wherever they came from. Thranduil might, but he's a pragmatic sort.

"It's Kirkwall we need."

thanks bruh

[dashing]

It’s Kirkwall they need, undeniably. Kirkwall, the Chantry, and the world beyond. Sina had used her magic to create that forest, but if the forest undercut their opportunities to build alliances and the entire world was lost through repeated blunders with this amongst them, what then?

She slowly exhales, and drinks some of the wine, spiced and rich.

“I have no desire to act insensibly; winning the Chantry and Kirkwall is important, and I will do whatever I can. Thank you for your counsel, it is greatly appreciated. I dread my own… history with the Dalish rendering me incapable of acting with reason.”

Knowing that what would be necessary to win the Chantry may make others who have suffered a loss unhappy brought her no joy, but the site was for Kirkwall’s loss in the first place. A magic forest suddenly appearing in a city long tormented by blood magic was, in some ways, lucky to last as long as it had. She was not, however, under the illusion that if the Chantry did demand the forest cut down, that it would be of much comfort. (She dislikes the Dalish, does not trust them, has suffered at their hands. That does not mean she wishes to make them suffer. There is no honour, no justice, no goodness in that.)

A sip of wine, because This Chat.