faderift | [Open] A Proper Party

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[Open] A Proper Party

WHO: The brothers Asgard and everyone else.
WHAT: Loki and Thor throw a party for everyone.
WHEN: Right after the quarantine is lifted.
WHERE: The Asgard Estate in Hightown.
NOTES: Loki gonna Loki, probably other things. Directly corresponds to this rookery post.

The new manor has come a far sight from where it had been, cleaned and updated significantly, but the aesthetics are still in keeping with Kirkwall standard...mostly. The exterior features a large iron scrollwork fence with matching gates, currently flung wide open, and a cheerful array of fresh floral decorations. Beyond the gates there are a number of hedges, bare but thick enough that once spring has properly taken over, they will likely be shaped into large living sculptures. There are a few torches scattered among the flora, but they lead toward the front of the manor.

The building's superstructure has not been overtly altered, but there are several exceedingly Tevene touches. The front doors, once made of hardwood, have been wholly replaced by a pair extremely detailed, solid, white marble doors. The fittings are all custom made, snake themed, and plated in gold.

The interior of the building is far more obviously Tevinter styled. The floors are the original wooden, polished to a mirror shine by the staff and bedecked in places by rugs with complex woven designs and thick piles. The foyer is well lit by a series of gold, wall-mounted sconces, and a large chandelier made of serault glass with a distinctly magical light-source in the center.

The staff, all elven in matching black uniforms, are waiting just inside the threshold and are ready to assist anyone who requires it. First and foremost they will offer to take any coats and curtsy with proper depth to anyone who passes by.

There is still some construction going on, deeper in the house, but it is up the grand staircase and beyond the realm of the party. Occasional hammer-falls resound from upstairs but they can only be heard if one is being very quiet.

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The suit Beleth chose for him is downright vulgar, but Benedict reasons he couldn't have expected much from a savage, no matter how highly she ranks in the Inquisition. He's worn worse, incidentally only since arriving here in Kirkwall, but the real injury is that he has to look like this in front of Thor and Loki and all their guests.

At every opportunity, he casts his eyes about the room for any familiar faces, only to be met with pithy anonymous Free Marcher nobility about whose estimation he couldn't care less. Refusing to enjoy himself as long as he's surgically grafted to Beleth, he spends most of the evening with a glass of wine in hand and an expression of dull regret on his face.

When she finally, finally frees him, he goes in search of their hosts.

The younger man looks oddly familiar, down to the slightly sulky look on his face. Thor waits until he's broken off from the elf to approach.

"Tell me. Do I know you?" Thor holds out another glass, an invitation to linger.

This merits an incredulous look, and Bene isn't sure whether to be insulted or... well, no, he's pretty much just insulted.
"House Artemaeus," he replies tersely, and takes the glass, "Benedict. Son of Calpurnia." If anything, she'd be upset to find how little weight her name carries.

Oh. Of course. One of Loki's tag-alongs. The house isn't too weak, but it's certainly not a rival and that would be why he hadn't had reason to watch it too closely.

"You were escorted in. I had heard they had two Tevinter prisoners, and I will guess this makes you one." It wouldn't be the first time one of his brother's fans ended up in trouble. Thor is quite certain it won't be the last time, either. His brother attracts that sort.

"Does your mother know you are held here?" She's not entirely powerless. She could be someone worth impressing, depending on if the Inquisition continued to hold them at arm's length.

If only Calpurnia could hear Thor say such things, perhaps House Asgard would have another rival.
"Yes, I suppose this makes me one," Benedict replies in a snippy tone, his patience with the conversation already running thin, "and I don't know if she knows. She doubtless knows I'm somewhere, but the Inquisition has hardly been cooperative in my attempts to contact her."

There is potential here, but there is also risk. Loki could easily mean for this boy to be bait for a trap. Thor ponders for a moment before deciding to take the risk. His eyes are open to the possibility and that should be enough.

"I could try to contact her if you'd like. They do not restrict me." The boy could be useful enough, if he could also learn to be a little less whiny. "But the question becomes what is in it for me, and an answer comes to mind. You can tell me what you know of the Inquisition, what you think would be useful for a new arrival. Would that appeal to you?"

"Could you?" Bene looks tired when he asks, and even a little suspicious. He's had a similar conversation recently.
"The answer is nothing, nothing is useful," he mutters, "but if you're lucky they'll think you are. Anyway." He folds his arms, eyeing a drink tray. "Loki was going to send a letter for me, and it fell through. What makes you think you can do better?"

"I could try," Thor repeats. "I did not know my brother had previously tried and failed, but I am not Loki."

He doesn't have his brother's connections, but he's also not as shady as his brother. Thor has connections to other trustworthy people and he has a different sort of charm. There's a fair chance he can succeed where Loki did not, he feels.

"Is the Inquisition truly so unremarkable?"

That's true, he's not Loki. And therefore he's another avenue, which means potential success.
"I don't know. It's probably different when you're not dragged here against your will." A little smirk, and Bene tosses his hair, changing his approach now that it seems Thor may be swayed to help him. "But I'm sure you'll find a way to be of use. And my mother will appreciate your assistance." Sliding his hand into his shirt, Bene withdraws a letter and carefully gives it over.
"Once I get out of this, I'll make sure everyone knows which Asgard gets things done."

It's... cute, almost. The praise is a blatant attempt at manipulation and Thor has to shake his head.

Thor takes the letter. "I need more than a promise that depends upon you getting out of here." There is no guarantee Benedict will survive long here. "I will need you to make it worth it for me. I will get the letter out and you will find a way to pay me back."

Can the little Artemaeus do that? Thor doesn't know. It would be interesting to see if there's any use to the man, though.

A bit of the light goes out of Bene's eyes, and he sighs in growing discouragement. Always the payback. How many dicks does he have to suck to get one bloody letter sent?

"Of course," he says, pushing his hair back out of his face in a gesture that's more anxious than flirty.

"Good," Thor says with a nod. Is it the thought of hard work that gets the younger man upset? Benedict has much to learn if he's going to survive even past getting out of Inquisition custody.

"Keep your ear to the ground. If there is any information that you believe I will find important, you will share it. Are we agreed?"

Yes. Hard work.
"Right. Agreed." This was easier than anticipated, and if it goes well he may even be able to use it as leverage to make Loki do what he wants. A guy can dream.

"You would think," Beleth muses to Benedict quietly, as she delicately sips some alcoholic drink or another from a glass, "that I drug you here kicking and screaming, not that I escorted you so that you could attend this." It's not as though Beleth doesn't have other people she could have come with. People who were better company, or would even smile occasionally.

But they would have noticed--and cared--that she's going to disappear at some point tonight.

She examines the drink carefully, then glances at him again, an eyebrow raised. "Is this truly so grueling? Here, I'll tell you some of the sordid secrets of the Hightown nobles." If anything could bring people together, surely it's gossip. She subtly nods her head at a woman on the other side of the room. "Lady Bellamounte. She's having an affair with that man she's speaking with. So is her husband. Neither one is aware of it." Is she bullshitting, or is that an actual fact? Who knows? She looks rather pleased with herself as she takes a sip from her glass.

He's determined to be bored, no matter how Beleth tries to engage him, and Bene sips disinterestedly at his wine with a little shrug when the elf scolds him.
"Nobles," he mutters, with a roll of his eyes, "soporati bootlickers, the lot. I hope their mutual affair is getting something out of this."
It's actually somewhat telling that he's talking to Beleth at all, especially with any level of candor.

There's a petty, mean part of her that wants to push further. Oh, are you not enjoying yourself? We can leave right now. But she did something similar to Benedict once before, and still feels twinges of guilt about it. And that's not even getting into the fact that she doesn't want to leave, and if Benedict called her bluff, she'd had to deal with that mess.

Instead, she stares blandly at him, taking a sip of her own wine. "That may be true, but they're only trying to lick other soporati boots. Though I suppose they did attend a party thrown by an altus, so. Maybe they're just hoping that someone will start up a blood magic sacrifice. I wonder if they're more suspicious of you or me."

She glances at the couple again, and shrugs. "I suppose they must be. A pretty, young man paying attention to them? I'm not sure what he's getting out of it, though." He may be begrudging about it, but this is still a conversation, and by the Creators, she's going to get Benedict to have normal conversations with people.

Bene seems to consider the hypothetical, glancing between his wine and Beleth, then decides: "me, but only because you'd be the sacrifice." He takes an idle sip, eyes roving out over the room. "Though you'll get the attention for eating babies or whatever it is your bunch supposedly do. As if any of you were that interesting." It's almost a compliment.

"What, you're going to sacrifice me while I eat babies? This is beginning to sound more like an Orlesian opera than a Hightown party. I suppose you're right, though. I would never be able to compete with excitement." She takes another sip of her wine, also considering. "I apologize for stealing attention away from what I'm sure would be an incredibly impressive display of magical sacrifice, however."

That's

actually kind of funny.

Benedict smirks in spite of himself, at how Beleth turned the jibe, and he glances down at her with uncertain appreciation. Well done, rabbit, well done.

"...it'd be a better party, if nothing else," he remarks, perhaps a touch more pleasantly.

Edited 2018-03-12 18:13 (UTC)

"I suppose you're right." This is a victory, albeit a small one. Getting him to enjoy talking to people like a normal person. Perhaps it's a good place to take a break, before she pushes too far and snaps him shut again. Besides, she has business to attend to.

"Since we're being deprived of such excitement, I suppose I'd better let you go make some of your own." She gives his arm a little pat, before turning, eyes scanning the area. "I trust you won't mind if I step away, I need to speak to someone about an order of orphan scarves." And she begins to head off. Time to go be a sneaky asshole.

"And try not to do any blood magic without me."

All right, at least she's passably funny.

Visibly surprised by his release, Benedict steps back when Beleth moves away from him, his eyebrows raised inquisitively. He looks down at his arm, then around; she's letting him free for the evening? That's more trust than anyone has shown him thus far.

And then, her parting remark. He smirks in response, and the expression is almost genuine. "No promises."

Edited 2018-03-13 05:31 (UTC)

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[Open] A Proper Party

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