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WHO: Twisted Fate & OPEN
WHAT: A return to Skyhold.
WHEN: Roughly around the 10th or so of Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Different prompts inside! (Lyrium not included) If none suit you, feel free to make your own prompt!

♠ TAVERN
It seemed a good of a time as any to be shitfaced.

Frankly, he's not sure what he expected by creeping around tunnels under what remained of the Temple of Andraste. He knew it wasn't going to be overly pleasant, but he'd been anticipating no more than a romp around ruins, gutted remains, and little to do more than sketch out a few maps and send them off to the advisors, assuming it would do them any good.

Spirits aren't always bad, but hell if they aren't a pain in the ass sometimes.

So, Twisted Fate is in his more preferred environment, ordering another drink for himself as he loathingly broods, a hobby he'd never enjoyed. There are more entertaining things to be doing, but this will do for now.

Will you or won't you join him?

♠ COURTYARD
"Ladies and gentlemen, what you're about to behold is magic in a way you've not quite experienced before. Transmutation! What you see here in my hand is a jar, fits in my hand quite nicely. Freshly churned butter! What I will be doing is transforming this simple item into something else."

Twisted Fate shrugs off his coat, hanging it on a branch nearby before he's holding out the jar. Approaching one of the on-lookers, he winks at her and holds out his hand.

"Does the lady have a handkerchief I could borrow? Thank you." He accepts the handkerchief, stepping back as he holds up the jar.

"Ordinary handkerchief. Nothing unusual about it. And yet..." After draping the cloth over the jar, he tugs it away quickly to reveal--

A tiny nug in his hand.

"And there you have it! Off you go." Fate crouches down and releases the little thing before returning the handkerchief to the lady. "Much appreciated. Thank you, thank you -- I'm here, well, as long as until they send me off again."

♠ GARDEN
In Twisted Fate's left hand are papers, and he's looking distant and thoughtful as he reads them over. A letter, perhaps. Difficult to say, but he seems very intent as he looks over the contents.

In his other hand, an arrowhead, being rubbed by a thumb.

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Naturally, he's not certain why he'd expect a straight answer from her. He'll just have to get used to it; it's not as if she means any harm, and her intentions seem good enough for him. Whatever they might be.

He grins faintly. "Well, we have that in common. I'm not afraid of you, even if I think you might be a bit odd. But, well, most would say that about me too, wouldn't they?"

He pauses, then says, "It's River, isn't it? Lovely name. Sort of want to stick with the nickname, though, if it's no bother to you."

"Bean. Not for sustenance. Seeds to sow and grow. Small and in need of nurturing," she murmurs absently, her toes wiggling. It's him keeping her at a distance, the wrong name. But it makes him feel safer...

But it's muddled after that. His tipsy state has a little bleed over, and she lowers her chin to the top of her knees with a nod. Bean it is.

"Seemed an appropriate name to me. Glad you're fine with it." The elf taps his fingers on the table, absently ordering another mug for him. Talking seems a fit distraction, he supposes. After what happened in the tunnels, he's fine with it.

Names. Coming up with a nickname comes with a few flavors; when he did it for his partner, it was with a certain amount of fondness, but he was still Malsaam. But after what happened, better to not be close again. The heart is just too fragile and he prefers to not play against those odds again.

"Where are you from, bean? Can't really seem to pin it down. Usually have an ear for this sort of thing, but it's not always easy to tell." Especially when shitfaced.

"Dancing in your head, the notes are familiar, but the song is wrong..."

No, wait. The other thing. He'd wanted to know where she was from, and her brow wrinkles. "I remember the way words sounded at home, washing up from the sea and rolling over us like warm blankets. Cumberland. But we haven't been there in a long time. It doesn't sound the way it used to anymore."

That is certainly an odd thing to say. Fate gives her a wry look, but says little else. Right now, it sounds like nonsense, but he gets the feeling it could mean something more.

Calculating is a bit hard when you're intoxicated, though.

"It's different now. I take it you were forced to leave?"

Forced? No. That was the insideousness of it, she supposed.

She'd asked for this.

Her hands fall to her hands, her fingers twisting into the fabric of her dress. "I went away. They didn't want anyone to know, had to be quiet and proper and pretend." Her head shook faintly. "But it wasn't what they thought, and then I couldn't see them anymore."

River takes a steadying breath. "I didn't want to stay. It stays inside, it never goes, but we had to get far, far away. And then we were here."

Listening to her doesn't really help his drunken mind, but it is a bit sobering. Not necessarily what he wants, and he blinks a few times before he sighs softly to himself. He'd asked, knowing it was possibly to hear her train of thought; it's like disjointed poetry, beautiful and alarming all at once. Were he of more sound mind, he'd be inclined to try to put it together.

Right now, he feels unsettled, but he figures that's not River's fault. Whatever is wrong with her, she can't seem to quite help.

"I'm sorry for askin'. Rude of me, anyway. Hardly speak of myself as it is." He chuckles wryly, humorlessly. "Should we talk about something else, bean? You like t'do anything for fun?"

It was indeed a dismal subject, and his discomfort could be felt creeping off of him. He'd come here to get away from that, and she'd brought it back. She had to get better about that.

So she concentrates, tries to remember when she's at her happiest. Her mind drifts to that day in the courtyard, with that strange girl in the tree playing her music. "...I like to dance," she admits, after a moment.

"I haven't danced in ages," he murmurs.

He can't remember it clearly. Maybe it was in a tavern, and he was flirting with a barmaid or two, Malsaam refusing to have any part of it. The last time he'd done anything before that, with the clan--

No, he'd rather not go there. And not after Malsaam, either. Really, had it been that long?

"Maybe we should find a reason to, sometime. When I'm certain I won't be tripping over my own feet, hm?" He cracks a smile.

There's shame there, guilt. It radiates off of him, and hiding under a hat makes more sense now than it did before.

"It's not the same as before." Her nose wrinkles. "There were...other things. Catching sunsets with a brush or climbing high to see how far the world could spread. But the colors are different. They're harder to catch."

No, that's wrong. It's going back to the dark places again, and she doesn't want that. River gives Twisted Fate a questioning look. "...faces on the table. Faces in your hand, and two in your sleeve."

Before, her cryptic words were strange but fascinating before, full and dour and oddly poetic. He liked to listen, even if he did not always understand.

But her last words make him pause, almost sober. His brows raise slightly, and he feels strangely unnerved, an almost foreign sensation. Carefully, his fingers trace over the top of his glass, and he breathes almost cautiously.

"A good gambler has several," Twisted Fate says finally, his voice calm but his heart slightly less so. "And I have several more. You're a perceptive one, bean. But I get the feeling you have a question. Can you ask it?"

"Could you teach me to play?"

Perhaps not the question he was waiting for, judging by the way he was bracing himself before inviting it. But there are some things she doesn't need to ask. The secret's there, a thorn deep in his paw, but removing it would take time. And he'd need to want to. She doesn't have to be that person, and now isn't that time.

Instead she continues to peer up at him, all child-like curiosity.

Is that what she meant, or something else? It's a bit hard to tell, and though he hesitates he seems to settle with her question well enough.

He lets out a low laugh, quiet, and he reaches into his coat. A deck of cards is settled onto the table and he looks at her. This is something he can do, no matter how intoxicated he is.

"Easily," Fate says, grinning faintly. "Wicked Grace, Diamondback, or something else? I know them all."

She stares at the cards for a moment, considering, her nose scrunching once more. Her fingers reach out, delicately tracing the top of the deck.

"Vices and virtues, all in a row. I've never played with cards," she admits after a moment. "We never had them at home. Not proper for ladies to learn."

Which wasn't true. Plenty of women played the game. But their parents had their sense of propriety, and after Simon left they would have done anything to try and preserved it. After that there hadn't much time for games at all.

"Not proper? Hell, that's up to you, not someone else." He chuckles. "Though I don't rightly intend to teach you the improper way."

Not yet, anyway. A cheater keeps his tricks to himself -- for the most part.

"Suppose we ought to start with something simple. You know what's in a deck, though, don't you?"

She shook her head, leaning closer in order to get a better look. Twisted Fate had a rapt student now, eager to learn. She could have gotten the information some other way, of course, but having him show her would be much clearer. Less confusing.

And she liked the sound of his voice, even when it was slurred. His accent came through when he wasn't trying so hard to hide it, soft and lilting like the Dalish.

With a smooth hand, he slides the cards out, revealing them much more clearly to her. When he continues to speak, more of his native accent comes out, and he doesn't seem entirely aware of it.

"Now then. You have the serpents, songs, angels, knights, and daggers. Easy to remember when you look at 'em, but knowing your suits helps when playing Wicked Grace. Rules are pretty simple to know; once the deck is shuffled, dealer ensures all players have a hand of five cards. Players are gonna draw and discard cards, and then play 'em. They can play the cards upside-down in order to enhance their hands until a card shows up in their deck."

Fate holds up the card in question. "Angel of Death. The game's over when this card appears, then all players got to show their hands. Non-matching cards lose, and the more matchin' you got the better off you'll be. Y'get the idea?"

She nods, though she gives the serpents a wary look. Her teeth run briefly along her lower lip as she plays her fingers over the other cards, taking in the pretty illustrations denoting sins and virtues. It made enough sense.

"I want to try it."

It would make more sense in practice, seeing the way the cogs rolled together. And it would give him a distraction.

"And I would enjoy playing with you." Fate cracks a grin and smooths the cards back into a stack. "Shall I deal, or you?"

For this, he thinks, he would not cheat. It wouldn't be fun, and there's nothing at stake here. Playing with honest intentions is not typical for him, but this is for fun and River is learning.

Plus, there's nothing they're betting on.

After another moment of deliberation, she holds out a hand for the cards. For all her appearance of a novice, once they're in her hand they quickly split and shuffle, the cards rattling softly between her fingers. As if she's always known how to do so.

Five cards are drawn and dealt to each of them, before her eyes lift questioningly. Like that, correct?

The deck finds a spot in the center of the table as she draws her hand closer, waiting for him to act first.

A curious thing, for someone who supposedly has never touched cards before. Twisted Fate's been playing for several years; the way she's done it, that's not how a novice would shuffle or deal.

So either she's lying, or she's a natural.

Interesting indeed.

"That's excellent," he compliments, eyes watchful despite his state of being. Drunk or not, there's a sharp look to his gaze. "Very good, bean."

Fate has a quick look at his cards, then calmly draws from the top of the deck. The card from his hand, he discards face up is a Serpents card.

"And now for th' lady," he indicates, nodding to her. Suddenly, considering how she dealt, he wants to see how she plays. The results of the game is less interesting than River herself.

She eyes the serpent card distrustfully, and when it comes time for her to draw a card quickly discards one of her own, perhaps with a bit more vehemence than necessary. When she sees Fate's eyes upon her with such focus, it seems an explanation is in order.

"...you can't trust them. Forked tongues," she states, solemn as you please. As though that were a completely obvious reasons for disliking the card suit.

"Such is the way of it," he drawls, interested in how she'd hastily gotten rid of hers. "It's the worst card you can have in your hand, anyway. Not a fan of serpents myself."

The Serpentine River comes to mind. The long, twisting body of water. He recalls how his clan would travel along the banks. River rats, the locals would call them, and though the water looked calm it could sweep you up in a second.

He blinks, his expression calm, but he goes back to the matter at hand.

Twisted Fate draws a card with a hum, then sighs as he removes another from his hand, a Dagger. "Only slightly better than the Serpent. Heh."

Serpents, then daggers. She put that to memory as she drew another card, brow furrowing in contemplation over her deck. Finally she pulled one of her cards loose, a knight this time. "He's more powerful than the others, but by himself he'll fall. No use at all," she remarks before placing it face-up and ressuming her look over her hand.

A few matching ones so far. Well. The hands to come would tell.

"Wisely spoken," he says, smiling in approval. She's correct; a knight card on its own is nothing without others to match, after all. One angel is garbage in the face of a matching suit as well.

Another card is pulled, and he discards another serpent card with a thoughtful look. "Making a bit of sense, right? In order of strength, from weakest to strongest: serpents, daggers, songs, knights, and then angels. But four serpents is still sadly stronger than a lone knight. I think you gathered that."