faderift | ♠ TRICKS OF THE TRADE ♠ round 1

WHO: Twisted Fate, Samouel Gareth, Adelaide LeBlanc, Korrin Ataash, Simon Tam, Lenneth Valkyrie, Kain Highwind, Sina Dahlasanor, and potentially open depending on how one wants their thread to go down.
WHAT: Twisted Fate has some tricks to play.
WHEN: After everyone returns from the Mire, and before the inevitable split off for missions.
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Every prank has its own prompt for people who had asked for it!

♠ SAM ♠
Someone, it seems, lined your breeches with white powder this fine morning, something you may or may not have noticed. In any case, it seems harmless enough until in the late afternoon when it seems incredibly itchy. Can you stop yourself from scratching yourself in public? Oh, the indecency!

♠ ADELAIDE ♠
It'd been easy enough to get her students involved. One would be surprised at how mages do look for ways to make things a little less grim, especially in the face of what they've had thrown at them.

During a lesson in learning how to properly make a poultice, Adelaide will find her students all gasp in unison before abruptly collapsing onto the ground at once. They'll be silent until one of them starts giggling. And it could be that Fate is watching from around the corner, curious at the results.

♠ KORRIN ♠
Twisted Fate will certainly miss you, Korrin, and he's made that clear. So, he's left you a gift! A bottle of cider has been left in your belongings. Should you take a sip, your mouth will be a curious shade of lime green after awhile. With lots of love! (The color will fade after a day.)

♠ SIMON ♠
Simon Tam certainly has some socks. So nice that all of his left socks are mysteriously missing. And all those left socks have been tied together in one long line of socks, and that long line of socks has been tied around a mabari's neck. Dare you interact with the pup?

♠ LENNETH ♠
The next room in Skyhold that Lenneth walks into, whether it's the hold or the tavern so long as it's a place with a door, a bucket of fresh goat milk will spill on Lenneth. Ta-dah!

♠ KAIN ♠
Cotton balls have been aligned along the inside of your armor when you try to put it on this morning, Kain. Including your boots. The nerve! Who would ever? Who indeed.

♠ SINA ♠
An apple has been left for Sina. Thoughtful, but the apple seems to be moving on its own, shaking back and forth, wiggling. That's no normal apple. Could it be possessed? With enough investigating, one might find a beetle inside.

♠ TWISTED FATE ♠
And should anyone be clever enough to determine that it was indeed Fate -- which, really, is a no-brainer for Korrin, at least -- they will find the elf calmly seated in the tavern at the end of it all, drinking while playing a game of cards with one of the other patrons in the bar.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As fate (and Fate) would have it, it was indeed the entrance to the Herald's Rest that held that particular surprise. Lenneth hadn't gone to the tavern yet, but she'd heard it suggested several times at the Mire camp as a nice warm place to rest, and she rather missed the festal atmosphere of the einherjar's halls in Valhalla.

She allowed herself a small smile at the sound of boisterous Inquisition soldiers and staff, and at the candlelight as she entered--which was abruptly turned into darkness as something landed with a wooden thunk on her head. She let out a short undistinguished shriek of surprise, which echoed hollowly from the bucket, the noise creating a nice harmony with the contents that didn't soak her landing with a wet splatter on the floor beneath her. The creamy, slightly sweet scent of goats milk filled her nostrils.

Lenneth stood stock still for a moment, and then whipped the offending object off her head, and leveled the gaze of a bull readying its charge at each visible patron in turn in search of a culprit.

Oh. Maybe that didn't go as well as he'd hoped. It seemed harmless enough, but he could have been mistaken.

So, from above, Fate glances down, cringing a little before he decides it might be best to find the closest window and vault out of it.

And so he does, not eager to find Lenneth's wrath.

The quick flicker of movement caught her eye--and the Valkyrie was after it. Not directly through the tavern of course, but out and around, still dripping, the bucket in her hand.

Then, halfway through her sprint up to the battlements, hoping to spy and catch the mischief-maker from there, she looked down over Skyhold and slowed. Then stopped. Then sat. The lights from below twinkled, the sound of metal on wood from the practice ring, the murmur of conversation resuming in the Herald's Rest after the hush that had fallen when she'd screeched.

Why was she so angry? What great height did she have to fall from here, in this world? She was no general here, no goddess, no unassailable battle-maiden. She had no great respect to maintain. Here she was an outsider. And now a bad-tempered one. Sitting on the cold step, she found she didn't much like the thought of being known that way.

Perhaps here... she could play at an einherjar's games.

She flicked her tongue out to taste the milk and smiled slightly. At the very least, it seemed that the milk of goats tasted the same no matter the world.

Then she eyed the bucket that was still in her hands. Perhaps... She stood slowly, straightened her back, and made her way back down the steps to the tavern--with the intent of procuring some ale for the bucket, sussing out the perpetrator, and returning the favor.

When he finds that he is no longer being pursued, Twisted Fate waits patiently by the stalls of the merchants, just in case. Could never be too careful, after all. Still, when it seems that Lenneth doesn't choose to chase him, he warily makes his way back towards the tavern.

Likely, more than enough time for her to have filled that bucket to the brim if she wanted.

When he returns, he'll find her sitting at a table near the entrance, watching the door rather expectantly with a full bucket of ale on the tabletop and two mugs beside it. Although she looks at him when he walks in, there's no flash of recognition--apparently he got out before she could see enough to identify him as the culprit.

Edited 2015-12-10 06:19 (UTC)

There is a curious glance over the bucket, the one he knows oh-so-well. Fate rubs his chin and he casually approaches, which he hopes is in no way suspicious at all. The elf presses his hand against the table as he looks her over.

"Plan on drinking all that yourself?"

"I... actually intended to find whoever filled this with milk and upended it on me and return the favor, but eventually decided that would be a waste of drink. Now my intent is to share it with them," the Valkyrie said, eyeing the elf with a raised eyebrow. "You do not happen to know who the second mug rightfully belongs to, do you?"

"Well, I just might know."

Admittedly, Twisted Fate doesn't know her well enough to anticipate what she may do; all he observed was how incredibly serious she was, and how it felt appropriate to try to lift the dour mood.

He sits down across from her, and removes his hat.

"Twisted Fate. I hope you didn't find the joke harmful?"

She lifted the bucket and filled one of the mugs, and then pushed it across the table to him with the tips of her fingers, "It may have somewhat of the taste of goats milk about it, but is ale nevertheless." Her tone was arch, but there was a kindness in her eyes.

"Lenneth. As to the joke... it is complicated," she dipped her own mug, and took a drink, pursing her lips slightly at the bitterness. Not what she had anticipated, but nothing here really was. "In my world, I was much like Commander Cullen is to the Inquisition, and in charge also of..."

How does one say 'collecting the spirits of the heroic dead' to one who is not from Midgard?

"...recruiting soldiers." Well enough. She took another sip. "If I could not command respect and awe, that job would be impossible. To have one of my einherjar pull such a trick on me..." Lenneth sighed, lowering her eyes to the table.

"And so I was angry." She looked back up at him. "But you are not one of my soldiers, and I am not a commander. This war we wage does not succeed or fail on my performance. It would harm me little to be a soldier, and treated as anyone else might be. So I suppose... I thank you. For reminding me where I am." The Valkyrie raised her mug towards him in a toast, watching expectantly.

[ooc: The bottom of Fate's mug has been pried out and replaced loosely, so it will fall out and put ale everywhere when lifted. ;D <3]

"Well, if it's any consolation, Cullen isn't safe from me either."

Still, he understands a bit; it explains her initial reaction and furious gaze, and he supposes that if Cullen had such a look about him, then he wouldn't plan to trick him as well. Regardless, he comprehends the concept, and he offers a soft smile in response. So, it seems that she's taken it well.

The mage chuckles and says, "It's my pleasure. I'm glad it was taken so--"

When he lifts the mug, the bottom pours out, all over the table and some over his trousers. The elf pauses, bewildered a moment. For someone to trick the trickster is not a feat often pulled, and he looks almost flustered before he lets out a steady laugh.

"Madame," he says, setting down the mug. "I think it was taken incredibly well now. A fine way to introduce ourselves, hm?"

Lenneth laughed delightedly as it spilled, obviously pleased with her success. It was a light and carefree sound very much at odds with her usual serious demeanor. She reached beneath the table and produced another mug, filled it, lifted it to show it was functioning as intended, and passed it across the table.

"It is a warrior's duty to even the playing field as much as possible," she said, raising her mug to offer the toast again sans trickery. "Now we are both sticky. And well met, I believe."

♠ TRICKS OF THE TRADE ♠ round 1

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