[open] Two Tevinter Mages Walk into Kirkwall

[thorndergod]

WHO: Thor and Loki of House Asgard, you!
WHAT: Joining the Inquisition
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Racism likely.

1. Open - In the Gallows

It's bright and early when two unknown men stroll into the Gallows, heads high. The taller, blonder one seems cheerful as he looks around.

"Grim and cold! We are truly in the south now. Which ones do you suppose are the... servants?" It's a narrow save.

"The ones with the pointed ears, as always," the dark haired man replies and settles his arms across his chest. He regards the courtyard with open distaste and his expression becomes one of resignation, after a beat. "Though we are in the south, so perhaps it is merely the poor that serve them. Their shoes should be sufficient indication."

"Shoes. Of course." The blond man starts peering at people's feet openly, making no effort to hide his scrutiny or lower his voice. "All of their shoes are poor, so perhaps all of these are servants. You there! Who is in charge? Who do two new allies need to speak with when joining?" He points at someone mostly at random.

2. Closed to Beleth

Beleth Ashara. It is an elfy name. Thor holds his misgivings close to his chest as he leads the way up the stairs as directed. Has the Inquisition already started its fall? What aid will they be in the fight against Corypheus and the Venatori if they've begun to falter? They are questions he'll ask his brother later. For now, he's approaching the open door of an office and knocking hard on it, breaking into a wide smile despite his assumption proving true.

"Greetings! I am Thor of House Asgard, this is my brother Loki, and we are here to join the Inquisition! I have papers of introduction from my father." With full confidence he holds them out. There is no way an elf could find fault or flaw in the words of Odin.

3. Open - In Hightown

Kirkwall is...tolerable, in the right light and in the right neighborhood. Where the docks and the lower levels of the city had been unbearably diverse and grimy, the finer neighborhoods are far less of both. Hightown is decorous, lovely, and well manicured. The air is clearer, the sun is brighter, and there many, many fewer of the lower classes meandering about. It isn't Tevinter but, overall, it's not a terrible place to spend a few months...or however long this whole situation takes to resolve.

It can't be terribly long, not once they've contributed their own talents to the cause.

"I imagine the view would be excellent if we can see that portion of the harbor," Loki comments and gestures down toward the sprawling ocean view beyond. It is mostly obscured by mansions. Mansions that Loki would like to own in the near future (ideally to demolish to construct a proper villa, but that was a plan for another day).

"What say you, brother, shall we purchase that one?" Loki asks and Thor, at his side. Thor, to his credit, takes a moment to peer at the house, to give it a proper amount of scrutiny, and then all but shouts:

"Yes! I like it! We shall take it!"

The owners, leaving their house and headed toward the market, seem utterly confused by the announcement.

--

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Comments

I

[untiltheyarent]

Perhaps this is the first recipient of You There who is actually somewhat, kind of, almost, who the brothers think she is. With a bundle of dried reeds under her arm, the elf is clearly taking them somewhere, but is inclined to pause when someone important-looking calls to her.
"I expect that would be the department heads, messere," she says calmly, glancing between the two and gleaning fairly easily that they're from Tevinter. All sorts pass through Val Royeaux, and fashions trend geographically. "...you can find them in the building behind you."

[thorndergod]

At last. Here is one who is respectful and answers properly, and she gets a genuinely warm smile from Thor. It isn't the fault of the others that they don't understand the shape of the world, but it is a credit to her that she does.

"Thank you," he says cheerfully. "Who are you carrying reeds for?" Seeing as 'who owns you' is out of the question here, that seems the closest approximation. If they find who gave her her orders, they may find someone who is a little more Northern in their attitudes.

[untiltheyarent]

She meets his smile with a half-smirk, but no warmth touches Fifi's eyes. The man seems friendly enough, but he's got an air about him.
"For the tower bedrooms," she explains. A collective thing, rather than one specific person. "They help to keep mud off the floors."

[thorndergod]

Not a who. It does not give him any special insight into the people of the Inquisition like a name would, but it does say they are at least seeing to basic matters that sloppier organizations could forget.

"Of course. It is far more wet down here in the south." Marnas Pell wasn't exactly dry, being on the water as it was, but it was warm enough that mud did not linger long. "Have you worked for the Inquisition long? Do you find it a worthy enterprise?"

It didn't do to talk too long to elves, but he needs more clues as to what he's walking in here. Tevinter is too far away for him to have any certainty in the rumors they've heard.

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki is, frankly, a little baffled that Thor is speaking with this elf. She is clearly a servant--the reeds in her arms mark her as such--and he is not often given to acts of deviousness. The only reason to even speak with a servant was to plot poisoning someone--and yet here he was, discussing the weather?

Loki gives his brother a strange look and, to her great misfortune, turns his full attention on the elf girl he is addressing. She is a thin thing, as reedy and the bundle in her arms, and half as impressive. Her accent is Orlesian, which is probably the entire reason the girl is polite at all--she knows her place and damned if Loki can't respect that.

"Tell us what you think of these people," Loki encourages. Thor has already asked and it will not do to undermine his brother in front of the help. "We have hardly met any sensible ones yet."

[untiltheyarent]

Looking between them, Fifi gives a quiet shrug. "I know little of them, messeres, having only arrived myself," she replies, "not so long ago. Your guess is as good as mine, though there is much they have done as an organization in Orlais." Individuals, she doesn't know.