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WHO: Christine, Church, Sam, and Cyril
WHAT: A double date dinner.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 13th
WHERE: The Delacroix-Church residence
WHAT: A double date dinner.
WHEN: Bloomingtide 13th
WHERE: The Delacroix-Church residence
Christine's twenty-eight birthday dawns cloudy and humid, leaving an oppressive mugginess around her wherever she goes. It's a far cry from the clear, sunny day that her birthday fell on last year when she hosted a picnic outside of Kirkwall on the foothills of the mountains. Perhaps it's for the best that this year is a low-key affair that will take place indoors.
After taking Ponce for his walk and heading to the market for supplies, Christine sets herself up with the task of cooking a fabulous dinner for her guests. To anyone else, a birthday would be the chance to sit back and relax while others handle all the work, but to Christine, this is how she enjoys celebrating.
At dinnertime, the table is set with candles and a centerpiece of flowers. Ponce tries every way he can to get underfoot until he has to be locked away in the bedroom, which he protests hotly with growls and demanding scratches on the door to be let out. By the time Sam and Cyril arrive, dessert is cooling on the counter, the side dishes are ready, and Christine is setting the pork ribs with their sweet and smoky sauce on the table. This is far from a light, Orlesian meal.
"Will you get the door?" she asks Church, going to retrieve Ponce before he scratches clear through the door or starts barking enough to annoy the neighbors.
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"The last I checked under the bed, there were no extra men hiding here. Just two hungry boys." She smirks at Church and gives Ponce a scratch behind the ear, as she's referring to the two of them. "Come in; have a seat. My day is already wonderful, thank you. I do enjoy cooking, so I could not ask for a better time that what I've spent bringing this meal together."
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Ponce is finally let on the floor, and hopefully he doesn't turn into a little anklebiter. He only has two hands, and they're both for eating.
"Yeah, make yourselves at home. There's plenty to go around, take leftovers if there are any. She's practically been walking on air all day, as well she should. Oh, and, before I forget--"
He reaches into his satchel left haphazard on the floor and takes out--a crown. Well. It looks kind of like a crown. Sort of. It's made of parchment, so maybe nobody open a window, but he places the makeshift crown on Christine's head.
"For my princess."
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"You're really something, Christine. I'm glad you found something you like to do. Brings back memories when you first started to cook at Skyhold." He grins at that, remembering how he got volunteered to be a taste tester.
At seeing the crown, Sam raises a brow, his grinning growing a bit more.
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Cyril gets distracted by the paper crown though, amused by the idea of it. "Is that a human tradition for birthdays?" it's the first time he's seen one, and he wants to make note of it in case the next time he throws Sam a party he should make one.
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"Thank you." He had told her he was going to do it: putting a crown on her head. Hopefully he doesn't go through with the other thing, which is hoisting her on his shoulders and carrying her around while shouting how great she is.
"It is not a tradition that I know of, no. Perhaps it is on Earth?" The question is directed at Church, since he would know.
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There's a short moment where he thinks maybe right now he looks like a kid, and that is, perhaps, not what he wants. But then he draws himself up, looking proud. "She's royal to me. And royalty deserves a crown. So I made a crown for my princess. Cuz who can afford a real one, right?"
Especially since he couldn't afford what he really wanted to get her but shh.