faderift | Oh, you're acting your thin disguise

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Oh, you're acting your thin disguise

WHO: Beleth and YOU.
WHAT: Beleth is back from the Fallow Mire, trying to deal with some things, trying to ignore other things.
WHEN: Before people go off on their war table missions
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Nothing so far, will edit if necessary.

Tavern

Beleth has made the decision that she needs to have copious amounts of alcohol before attempting to take on the confrontation that she has planned. Liquid courage, right? So, she takes a seat in the tavern, keeping her eyes glued to the bar, and works her way through a pint. It occurs to her, as she orders another one, that she has been doing an incredible amount of drinking lately. Far more than she had before she'd made her way to Skyhold with her clan.

Well, they were her clan, for now. Would they still call her clanmate, when those who would leave the clan finally admitted it? Would she call them clanmate? She knew it was a risk--one of the reasons she had come to Skyhold, after all, was hoping that she'd be able to persuade them otherwise. But she saw some of them, intermingling with the humans, so quick to adapt to the humans and their culture that they should just remove their vallaslin and nock their ears already.

Shit. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about what she was drinking for. And now she just wanted to drink more. She starts on the second pint with relish.

Stables

"I think you're my favorite living creature in this place."

The wild hart took this declaration in stride, chewing on the grass in its trough. Beleth followed up her statement with a laugh, shifting in her position on the side of his stall. The hart doesn't seem worried, even as Beleth reaches up and pets his neck.

"Do you have a name? I'm going to name you. How do you feel about Da'Assan? Little Arrow. For someone quick, and fleet of foot."

The hart snorts in reply, chewing contently.

"I'm taking that as agreement."

Library

Anyone who had been in the kitchen in the last few days might have heard grumbling from the cook about loaves of bread going mysteriously missing, with no one around to blame it on. A possible bread-obsessed ghost haunting Skyhold? Spooky.

Meanwhile, in the library, Beleth is enjoying a warm loaf of bread, and appreciating the fruits of having set up a little camp right above the rear entrance of the kitchen. Curled up in a chair in little alcove, she chews on the bread, while flipping through a book by some guy named Genitivi, documenting various parts of the world she'd never even heard of.

If she was going to learn how to sweet talk people, she had to expand her knowledge of the world in general. Especially if she met anyone from these particular places. Zevran would be pretty pleased, she thinks.

One thing she'd already discovered--There had been an Inquisition before this one. And quite frankly...she found what Genitivi had to say about them pretty sketchy. It made her worry--the Inquisition was supposed to be saving the world from Corypheus. Not leading another exalted march. Just what were the Inquisiton's intentions, after Corypheus?

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"I'd be careful downing that too fast, kitten," drawled a voice nearby. The Rivaini woman was watching her with something like amusement.

"It'll get you drunk just as well, with slightly less chance of you introducing your face to the floor."

She's tempted to ask how this is supposed to discourage her, as being face down on the floor sounds like a step up to her. However, that would be super rude. And giving away more than she wanted to about her current state of mind--if someone couldn't already pick it up from the way she was going after those drinks.

Besides, there's something else she needs to discuss with the woman--It's not hard to guess who she was, Isabela was a distinctive figure. Lots of jewelry, and Beleth could see black underthings if she tilted her head to the right angle. So Beleth sets her drink down.

"...You're Isabela, right? Zevran told me to ask you for help--um. Did he--Did he talk to you...?" Was she going to have to explain this? Shit.

"Zev sent you? Well, that is a surprise. If he meant to say anything, though, his mouth was probably entirely too occupied to get it out," she laughed.

She gives the elf a once-over. Nothing obvious about why Zevran would have sent her to his old friend, except that she seemed like she could desperately use some mood lightening.

"Still, I hope he didn't send you thinking I'd do something out of the goodness of my heart. That's not how people like him and me work. What is it he thinks I can help you with?"

Slowly, Beleth reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. This was already going to be something else, she could tell. And of course Zevran left it to her to have to explain it. The elf took another long drink, then set the mug aside. Which was a terrible idea--Beleth knew herself well enough to know that she was already buzzed at this point, but there was nothing for it. Sigh.

"Zevran took me on as an apprentice. He wants to train me to...work with people. Nicely." To be a frontman, she supposed. Was apprentice too strong? Whatever, she didn't care at the moment. "I can...be nice to people. That's not a problem. I'm very friendly." This is said earnestly, like Isabela might doubt this, somehow. "But...he wants me to practice flirting. He said that you'd be able to help me with it."

There's a pause, and she eyes the drink, but resists. No, she needs to gather up what remnants of her senses she still has. "I can do friendly, but that whole...what did he say. Tantalizing, and whatnot. I can't do that. I'm kind of terrible at it. I don't see why I have to, but...Zevran's the instructor, so."

Shrug.

Isabela gave Beleth a long, not-quite-believing look.

"Let me get this straight. Zevran sent you to me to teach you how to play nice? Are you sure he wasn't drunk at the time?" she scoffed.

"Look, sweetness, I don't play nice. And the things I do that seem that way are only skin deep," the pirate said, "However. If you're needing to learn to distract, to flaunt your tits and ass and make someone drool over you so much that they don't notice the knife at their purse-strings... All right. I think I might be able to help you there."

Her eyes flashed with amusement and she drew a little close to the elf to be respectful of silly things like boundaries.
"After all, a sweet, delectable morsel like you is bound to get eaten up otherwise. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing."

This is how it ends, Beleth thought, eyes wide, and leaning as far away from Isabela as she could without toppling over on her stool. She had no idea what just happened, this entire meeting did a 180 degree turn and her mind is still trying to play catch up as Isabela talks about various body parts and someone attempting to eat her oh dear Creators why. Why this.

She tried to will down the fervent blush that heated up her cheeks, and when that didn't work, slowly reached for her mug and took a long sip of ale. Okay. Words, next. Absolutely no words came to her mind, unless 'why' would manage to cover everything.

"I. Don't want to flaunt anything. Um. If that's okay." She returned the mug to the bar, staring at it for a moment as she tried to even think of what she could say. "If we can do that without any flaunting...? Or. eating. Or comparing me to food. Please."

"And you just got your first lesson in how to misdirect. Put your target on the defensive, keep them off-balance, and they're in no position to stop you. At least, not without falling on their asses," the pirate said breezily.

"But really, no, don't think your feminine charms aren't weapons, because they are. If you know how to use them properly."

"I--" Beleth needed a moment, here. That was a misdirect. Well. It certainly worked. "Can you do that without the...trying to be. Um." What was a polite word? "Immodest?" Nailed it. "Like--Talk about various body parts and what not."

She quickly held her hands up, not wanting to actually insult the terrifying woman. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Or, um. Using. Feminine charms. I just--don't usually use my, ah. Feminine charms. Like that. There isn't...much to use, in that manner." Beleth didn't have much going on in the curves department--something she didn't particularly mind, but she knew that humans tended to put a lot of stock in that. "I can use charms, but they're usually more. Modest." Batting your eyelashes, giving people big doe eyes and trying to look small and cute. That's what she was good at.

"The point of misdirection is to set your target up so what they expect isn't what you're going to do. Don't let them get too comfortable. Use their insecurities against them. For me, I know they're looking anyway, so might as well use it to my advantage," Isabela explained.

"But it is important to know how to read people to misdirect them well. You've got to be able to hone in on whatever buttons you want to push. Some are more obvious than others."

That didn't really answer her question--Or did it? Beleth mulled over what Isabela had said for a little bit, trying to puzzle out if making other people uncomfortable necessarily meant that she had to be uncomfortable. She's pretty sure no one's going to be oogling her, though, so she decides that she'll be fine.

Though Beleth can't help but think that less people would be looking at Isabela and her...assets, if they weren't out on display for all the world to see.

"I'm alright at reading people. Zevran is helping me get better at it, though." Is what she actually said, drumming her fingers on the bar thoughtfully. "Although...I don't usually try to hone in on what makes them uncomfortable. I could try paying more attention, if that's what, ah. Misdirects them." It wasn't a terribly bad idea, if she could use it just right--usually, she was trying to butter people up, but if you could use their insecurities against them in a friendly way...

She gives a small nod as she thinks it over. "Especially if they're proud."

"Well, there's nothing quite like a good fight after you've made a lot of people angry with you," Isabela laughed.

Her eyes glittered with something almost like malice.
"Oh, you have no idea how easy it is to mess with those who are too proud for their own good."

Pel loudly closes her own book and tosses it aside before rubbing a temple.

"Dirthamen save me," she mutters.

Beleth looked up at the familiar voice, and put her book down when she saw Pel looking...stressed out? Odd. The other Dalish quickly set aside her own book, turning to Pel. "Nothing interesting, I take it?" She asked, holding out a piece of the bread. It's a surefire strategy for Dalish: Someone is in distress? Give them food.

"Plenty interesting, nothing useful." She reaches for the bread and bites off a bit of crust, chewing intensely.

"Could be worse then, at least." She points out, though that's not what's on her mind. She hesitates for a moment or two, watching Pel aggressively eat the bread. Then she speaks again, in a lower voice. "You know--That's why I told you that you ought to be on the mage council. There's being agreeable with the shemlen, then there's--" She waves her hand vaguely. She doesn't want to speak rudely of any of her clanmates, but surely Pel could understand-There's being agreeable, and there's agreeing with everything.

"Anyway. I thought you did a good job on the council. Be careful with them, though. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the Empress' personal mage is still playing The Game, but she's not the only one who isn't saying what she means." She knew what to look for from her own experience, and with the training she'd been getting from Zevran, she was getting even better.

"Empress' personal mage?" She tucks Beleth's compliment away to be picked apart later.

"Madame Vivienne. The one with the strange hat." Beleth quickly tried to mime Vivienne's hat, but gave up. "The one who knew so much about clothing. She was Empress Celene's court mage. A renowned player of The Game." Beleth shoved some of the bread in her mouth as she dredged up what rumors she'd managed to get on that intimidating woman. Nothing of real interest, unfortunately, just the basics of who and what she was. "She faffed about calling herself the leader of the last loyal group of mages, if you can believe it. And the only one who could outdo Cyril in eyeliner technique." She snorted at that, but quickly grew serious again.

"I'll try to find out more about her, but the mage in grey, the one who was taking notes--She was thinking a lot more than she was saying. I need to find out more about her. If you want my opinion," Although Beleth was already giving it to Pel, asked for or not, "Korrin and Adelaide are going to be your best allies." This was what Beleth was training to do, after all. Watch people--not involve herself directly in politics, but be a shadow in the corner.

Or at least, a gossip who was hanging out on the bench available to observers, in between making faces at the Templar's backs.

"Allies are for wars, Beleth. And wars have two sides as enemies. The other members of the Council aren't my enemies. This isn't a grand manipulation to fix the world the way I want it, it's a lot of scared people trying to find middle ground and bumping into each other in the process."

"You don't need armor and swords to have a battle, lethallan. Look at The Game. It is a war waged behind painted masks, but it has just as much impact on the civil war being waged as the soldiers." She waved her hand around, frowning. "

You may not be trying to manipulate this to suit your wishes, but you can't say that for others. This is an opportunity to completely overhaul the way mages are treated. People are going to take advantage of that. We have already seen that there are plenty of people in the council who are willing to smile politely and let the others carry on with their plans." She's not going to say Ellana's name, but. It wasn't hard to guess.

"I think that means he's amused with you. Or tired. I'd suggest Souveri."

Salem peeks around the entrance of the stables at Beleth and her friend, offering a small smile. He's looking much better by now, the discoloration of his ears and toes almost gone. He has the borrowed scarf over his shoulders, as well as the one that Pel had given him, both wrapped loosely and tucked around one-another. He steps just inside and leans against the wall with his hands behind his back, ankles crossing as he surveys the other mounts. They don't seem to be paying him any attention.

She starts a bit, to see someone appear while she's having a heart to heart with the hart (heh). Once Beleth sees that it's just Salem, she settles back down, smiling at him. It's a relief to see that he's doing better, and looking warmer--if he hadn't, she really would have dragged him to the healer tent. So help her. At his words, she wrinkles her nose at him, though it's good-natured.

"He doesn't look tired to me. He looks like if I let him go, he'd do laps around Skyhold to shame everyone else." She patted the hart's side, then turned her legs out of the stall, so she was facing him. "Isn't he beautiful? He reminds me...of us." Her voice was quiet, eyes quickly glancing around. Just mounts to overhear the conversation. "The shemlen can't tame him. He's here because he wanted to be, not because he's broken by them."

She turns to look at the hart again, her voice growing even more quiet, enough that even in the peaceful stable, Salem might have a hard time hearing. "Not like all the Dalish here. But I know where I belong--outside." Some were like the hart, wild and free, but others...her eyes turned to the horses. Handsome and strong, but broken, belonging to the humans in body and soul.

"Din'arla. But I wouldn't be able to tell the shemlen the meaning."

"I've never been able to understand why they all think their mounts need to be broken. It's unnecessary and cruel." Salem frowns as he steps forward, running his hands over the Hart's face and down along its neck, letting it nose at his face briefly then looking back at Beleth. "Some of us have embraced the ways of the shemlen just to try and keep the peace, and I suppose I can understand it up to a point, but...it feels like a betrayal."

He almost feels like hugging the hart in a sudden fit of melancholy, but he holds himself back and turns back to Beleth, picking a stray bit of hay clinging to her clothes and tossing it back to the floor of the stables. "We'll make it home, when all of this is done. We belong to the trees and the earth, not cold stone and unfeeling nations." His brow knits as he speaks, but he goes no further. He's already angry enough at their situation, regardless of whether he'd sought out these people to begin with in the hopes of locating his own people.

For a few moments, she didn't say anything, but just stared at him instead. It's not the startled stare that she gives him when he flirts with her normally. It's startled, but...also admiring. Because he understood, after being here for months and having people routinely treat her like she was crazy for these thoughts, for all of this pent-up frustration at their situation. Salem's the first one to agree--about the betrayal, about not belonging here.

She feels like--maybe she isn't going crazy.

Beleth reaches out to Salem, losing her nerve midway through. Her hand hovers awkwardly, unsure of what to do, what feels right, what wouldn't be stepping over a line--And she ends up grasping his shoulder. That felt safe enough.

"Thank you." She says it quietly, but with plenty of emotion. Relief and worry mixing together. "You're--I'm worrying too much, I think. You're right. Most of us--I hope. We'll go back. That's what the Dalish do. We're loyal, whatever anyone can say for us. We stick together."

Something in Salem jumps when Beleth reaches out, but it sinks back down again when she redirects her hand to his shoulder. Friendly, a bit impersonal. It didn't match the impression that he'd gotten from her before, but he knew when it was better to step back. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, and so simply took what she offered with a smile. His hand came up to grip her wrist briefly, but he left it at that.

Her thanks makes the corner of his mouth creep upward. "We always find a way to adapt and overcome. We are Elvhen. Nothing changes that or pulls it apart."

Beleth was like that--cautious, not wanting to alienate anyone. Not wanting to assume too far and end up with someone getting upset at her. But she doesn't seem to mind him taking her wrist, her only response a small smile, eyes turning to the ground. It's...nice to have someone actually give her some words of comfort, something besides scolding her for her wariness, or shrugging it off as unimportant. Just...validating her feelings.

It was a nice feeling.

"You're right. I just worry--" Her eyes turned up, and away towards the rest of Skyhold, watching figures in the distance mulling about on their daily business. "I know no one can change that about us. But I worry some of us will willingly change themselves. But--" She had already said too much. She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Here I am, clucking away like an old maid. I'm just being paranoid." I hope.

She cleared her throat, turning back to Salem, and trying to quickly think of a subject change. "So--Um. Did you get your axe?"

He wanted to kiss her at this point, but he refrained. He didn't want to frighten her, make her assume anything except how pleased he was to meet her and learn all this about her, about her attitude toward their situation.

He nearly took the chance, too, when she looked away, up until she asked him about his axe.

"Yes! Uh...I stashed it. Up where someone couldn't put it in the armory or wherever they were planning to take it before. Soon as I can get out of here I'm getting it sharpened."

"Getting out of here?" She blinked at him, then vaguely gestured around her. "The stables, or--Are you leaving Skyhold soon...?" She wouldn't be surprised if he did, really--if he felt like her, he was eager to return to his clan. And he didn't have the responsibilities that she did keeping her here. As much as she fiercely missed her home, she had promised to stick this out. And a Dalish doesn't back down from their promises.

Still, it was a shame that he'd be leaving so soon. It was always nice to have more of the Elvhen around. Particularly ones that shared so many opinions with her.

"Either way, if you want your axe sharpened, I know someone who could help. He's human, but he's a pretty nice guy, and he works a lot in the forge. I dropped a bird's nest on his head and he just shrugged it off--" Pause. "On accident! I swear, I don't just...sit around on the rafters throwing nests at people."

"That's too bad. I might have helped you with that," he joked about the birds' nests. He wanted to focus on that rather than the disappointment in her voice when it came to his eventual departure.

"I promised to find more of the clan. There are no others here, just you all from Ashara and the one young mage from clan Dahlasanor. I refuse to believe that the other hunters were simply swallowed up by a damned rift." He'd said basically the same thing to Ellana when the two of them had spoken, but he doubted that she had understood where he was coming from. At least, not as much as Beleth was liable to. He struck upon an idea though, and leaned a little closer to her. "What if you were to go with me, though?"

"Some of your clan is missing--?" She looked startled at the information. That would certainly explain why Salem was here in the first place, when he showed little interest in the Inquisition as a whole. He didn't seem to feel obligated to help like some of her clanmates, or simply tied to the clanmates called here, like her. It also explained why he was eager to move on. A few of the People who were neither of your clan, nor in any immediate danger, were not nearly as much of a priority as missing clanmates.

But his next words, the offer he makes, is even more startling to her. Just--just offering to have her go with him? Just like that?

And the truth is, her first instinct is to agree with him. Salem is offering a return to her comfort zone, away from the Inquisition and their humans, and their Templars, and the clanmates that she had grown up with brush off everything about being a Dalish, like one would cast away clothing that had become too frayed to bother with. Where she didn't have to risk at the end of all of this, returning home with half the people she came with (or worse, a bitter voice whispers at the back of her head, all alone).

Where she wasn't the bad guy for being suspicious, where she wasn't, apparently, the only one that remembered that Tevinter, to this day, holds a significant elven slave population, where raiders still try to take children from clans to sell. It would be a relief to wash her hands of the entire affair, to go back to the Dalish, tucked away in a place she never had to deal with humans again. To be where she belongs.

But that wouldn't be responsible. She had a job here, and she had made a promise.

But would anyone really care if she left? If she didn't tell them, would they even notice?

And wasn't helping the People more important?

"...I don't know if I'd be--I think people would get mad at me, if I did." She finally whispers to him, like it's a big secret. It's the best answer she can give--her own opinions kept to herself. Neutral ground, while stating the truth.

She'd promised Sam that she'd actually talk to Krem. Which she did--Just. Not very in depth. They didn't talk talk, and quite frankly, Krem deserves at least an apology for the shitty way that Beleth had reacted. It was a selfish reaction--out of sight, out of mind, the less she saw of Krem, the less she'd remember how it felt when she was there in the stables, and Krem and Sam were playing tonsil hockey right next to her.

It hurt to stay away from Krem, but that memory hurt more.

But Sam had a point, and she was being selfish, and rude, cutting Krem off for daring to care for someone who wasn't her. What would her mother say?

So, Beleth appeared at the tavern, moving to the chair that might as well have his name engraved on it, for all that he sat there. She wasn't quite up to making eye contact, staring off at one of the other tables as she approached. "Hey--Um. Hello. Would it be okay--And, ah, feel free to say no, if you're busy, or if you just don't want to--but would you like to talk...? Alone, preferably." Her eyes darted up, now, towards the top floor of the tavern. That would probably work for a conversation, the only one who was up there was--

Well, she couldn't remember his face, but if whoever was up there was there, she could ask him to leave.

When Beleth approached him, he was immediately wary. Surely nothing good could come from the look on her face. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but before he could get the words out, she was looking away from him and words were spilling out and he almost wanted to put a hand over her mouth to stem the flow. He glanced up when she did though, and he didn't know whether he should be worried or not that she wanted to speak with him alone.

Still, he couldn't just say no, and he stood, gesturing toward the stairs. "After you then," he said quietly, letting her lead the way. He had a feeling that the upper floor would be vacant when they got there.

He agreed. He didn't look thrilled, but he agreed. She could hardly blame him--It's not like she was looking forward to it, either. But life was a series of doing things you didn't want to because they were necessary, and Krem deserved an apology. So she nodded, and led him up to the third floor.

She liked it up here. It was quiet, peaceful. Skyhold and the clan were similar in their business, people always around, talking and carrying on work. But in the clan, if you needed a few moments of peace and quiet, you could take a friend (or a twin) and wander off into the forest. It was hard to find any place that wasn't occupied in Skyhold, unless you felt like wandering out into the mountain.

She didn't speak right away, staring down at the people mulling about under their feet, trying to gather her thoughts. Apologizing wasn't that hard to do--she'd spent her life apologizing, often for things she knew weren't her fault, because it made things easier. But this was her fault.

"...I was wrong to avoid you like I did. I thought that I'd...make things easier for you. But I just made it harder. I'm sorry."

It was hard to be thrilled when things had already been so damn strained. But he wouldn't deny the chance to actually sit and talk, regardless of how uncomfortable it might be.

Without the thin shape in the corner, it was easy enough to settle in, and Krem leaned back against the railing with his arms crossed over his chestplate, eyes down on the junction between the wall and floor.

After a couple of silent moments, he shook his head. "Honestly, I don't blame you. None of us handled this very well at all. Thought maybe giving you time to...I don't know. Cool off. Might help when we did try and talk again. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," She says it as automatically as people breath and blink. After a moment, she realizes how hollow it sounds. Said too fast, without time to at least pretend she was thinking about it. A small sigh follows, and her fingers move to the railing, running along the wood, then gripping it, staring down at the people mulling about below them.

"I know that I was wrong. You're--you don't have any...obligations to me. You owe me nothing. And you deserve to be happy." It comes easily enough, because she's been repeating it to herself, throwing it around in her head over and over. If she kept doing it, maybe it'd sink in. Maybe it'd stop bothering her so much. "Sam is a good man. He'll make you happy." It's selfish to want anything besides what would make him happiest. And she would not have made Krem as happy.

"What I'm saying is that you didn't do anything wrong. But I did."

"Nugshit," Krem said automatically at Beleth claiming that she was alright. He knew that tone, that attempting not to be a burden, to take all the blame onto herself. It wasn't something that he was willing to deal with, not when it came to this. He'd been a shit without thinking about her being there, and he hadn't thought about how any of it had affected her until it was far to late to do a damn thing about it.

Then he'd just let it go.

"If you were alright you wouldn't have been avoiding me or Sam, right?" He turned to face her, keeping his tone even and even offering her a hand. "Bel, you do deserve to be selfish once in a while. You know that, right?"

Well, it was true that she wouldn't have avoided either of them if she was fine with the situation. That was just another thing to rankle at herself about. Failure on her part to be able to pass herself off as fine with it. She pressed her fingers into the wood, rubbing against the grain as she stared down at the people below drinking.

But he was wrong about the second part. She didn't deserve to be selfish. What had she done to deserve that? Maybe if she was doing something important--if she was someone important. But she wasn't. Not that she was useless. She was just. There. Nothing special. Just her.

But he's trying to be nice, and make her feel better, and if she refuses, he'll shoulder the guilt. So she reaches out and accepts his hand. The rough, calloused hand of a soldier, though it's warm to her touch.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

It's suddenly hard to think of any reply, puzzle out the effort of an answer, and she just wants to stand there, holding his hand, maybe for the next week or two? That, unfortunately, is impossible, so instead Beleth just gives him a small smile. "I'm not upset with you, I promise. You're--You're really sweet, you know that? You think so highly of me."

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Oh, you're acting your thin disguise

Tavern

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Library

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Stables

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For Krem

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