faderift | [Open] Where There Is No Wine

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[Open] Where There Is No Wine

WHO: James Norrington and You. Yes you.
WHAT: Drinking wine solves everything. Or at least that is what James is trying out this month.
WHEN: After the Tevinter debacle
WHERE: The Blooming Rose - he's only there for the good vintages and the chess games, kids.
NOTES: Warnings for talk of torture, bloodshed, and general warning for drunk James

There are times in one's life where one simply wants to blot out a few of the worse hours of their lives. For fewer, it is days, perhaps even weeks. Very few want to blot out about four months worth of time from their memory, but after returning, barely, from Tevinter?

James Norrington, Knight Commander and 'fed-up with being calm, polite, and gritting his teeth', had decided to get absolutely and totally shit-faced. He was also going to get shit-faced in the best brothel in all of Kirkwall, but honestly it was because their wine cellar was second to none, and all of the ... employees of the establishment were more than willing to get 'paid' for their time with a glass of wine and a good chess game.

He didn't just disappear from his office. He wasn't off to have a bender and never be seen again. There was a note tacked to the door of his quarters, and his office, in the same bold print so anyone could find him if they really desired to.

It said simply, Off to share the Maker's love at the Blooming Rose. Blessing the fallen with holy wine. Please join if you are looking to save the sinners and enjoy a good Red from Antiva. - J. Norrington

He was saving them, persay. They wouldn't have to sell their bodies for at least an hour or two while playing chess with James. It totally counted as an act of charity from a member of the Templar Order. If he got to drink wine along with it, well, he was just blessing himself.

He needed a lot of damned blessings.

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James is eying the move that Adriano has left him, before going to 'attend' to one of Madame Lusine's 'Special Clients'. It was a rather clever use of the Nevarran Double Bind - a move he had only ever seen when visiting Orlais some years ago. He pursed his lips together, hands folded over one another, frowning at the board as he tried to figure out how to save his Queen and Not get into check in five moves.

The frown turned into a brilliant smile - helped by two bottles of wine - at the sound of a familiar and lovely voice. "I am paying for my services and not abusing the staff. I say I am using it more correctly than most." He waggled his eyebrows at her, "Besides, no one would tussle a Knight Commander. They're all afraid of bringing down the Maker's fury upon their heads. Or at least Ser Coupe."

She can't help but smile in return at the change of expression at her appearance, sliding into the vacant seat at the table but not touching the pieces in front of her. Raising her eyebrows at him, she tilts her head before letting out half a laugh at his assessment of why he's not here for the full range of activities the Blooming Rose offers.

"I hardly think that's true. Ser Coupe has better things to worry about than who her templars are sleeping with. Unless of course you two are involved?" That's definitely a thought.

James stared at Evie for a moment, something dark flashing through his gaze at the very thought of allowing Ser Coupe have any access to his body like that. After what she had done, after what she had allowed to happen --

He plucked up his glass of wine, and stated firmly, "I would rather have blood mages hack off my genitals and use them for dark rituals, then to ever let that woman into my bed."

He breathed in the bouquet of the wine, sipped, pulled the calm back around him from the comfortable numbness of fine grapes. "Beyond that, she is not on my list of possible companions in the future. Maker's Breath, the list is not that long to begin with and she would be ... the second to last person in all of Thedas I would consider."

The curious look on Evie's face fades as she takes note of how very opposed to the idea of Coupe sharing his bed makes him. She'd heard some of what had happened in the catacombs from Lexie, but she'd been more concerned with the things her sister had ultimately been forced to do. Things she'd always hoped that Lexie would never be subjected to.

Holding up a silver coin in the air she catches the eye of the barmaid, signaling she needs her own glass, before turning back to James. Inhaling and straightening her posture in a deliberate manner of trying to refocus on keeping the conversation lighter.

"Ah, you have a list?"

James huffed out a breath, running one hand through his greying hair, letting the wine settle back into his veins and pull him away from anger. Back to a calming oblivion. He needed that oblivion more than he thought.

He glanced over at her as she ordered her own wine, before he nodded his head. "I thought it would be wise after - well. After Beleth and I decided we should both just be friends. I thought it would be best to take ... a good long look at whom I was attracted to, and see why it did not work."

When her drink arrives Evie passes off the coin and dismisses the woman with a silent look, bringing her glass to her lips as she listens to James speak. She can't help her eyebrows raising as he says that he and Beleth have decided to be friends, and after a moment she puts her glass back down, eyes settled on him.

"How thorough. Though I don't imagine an entirely enjoyable task. Did you come up with anything beyond all those women being horribly foolish for letting you go?"

"You know me, Evie. Why waste time on slapping my chest and bemoaning when I can logically pin-point the issue through logic and lists?" He smirks over at her, before he sighs and takes another drink from his glass.

"They are not ... foolish. I am just ... I suppose I am just dull?" He tinked his fingertips against his wineglass pensively, "No, that is not it. I think it is because I do not ... I do not inspire passion in the women I am attracted to. They like my romantic ideals of courting but they want - how shall I put this? Fire. I am apparently not fire - I am ... something less interesting than fire."

He thinks about that, "Water? I am tepid water."

She frowns as he speaks, her gaze drifting as she takes another sip from her wine and rolls what he's said over in her head.

"Courting in itself doesn't inspire passion. I always felt like the process was created to actively discourage it, really," she presses her lips together, setting her glass down again and lacing her fingers together, studying James over them.

"I've seen you in battle, you have fire. But what do you desire? You may need to find a woman who inspires passion in you."

He lets out a snort, but it is followed by a wry smile. He looks up at her, crooking one corner of his mouth up. "Considering how you had to beat off suitors with a stick on your birthday -- I think I shall trust your judgement on courting."

He pauses, and thinks about that. What really makes him burn within? He opens his hands wide, "Intelligence, wit, courage, determination. Self-confident." He purses his lips, "Someone who if we are trapped in a corner would fight their way out with me, back to back if necessary."

His lips twitch, "I cannot tell you how many times I have come out of battle and wanted to snog the person who fought with me."

Evie rolls her eyes at mention of the suitors that had turned up for the birthday party that Lexie had insisted upon, no doubt there on her mother's orders.

"All looking for a prize. Mother never tells them what they're in for with me, either." Which she has to admit is kind of funny, once they realize she's a chevalier most of them turn and run.

Leaning her chin on her hand as she shifts her position a little, a corner of her mouth lifts as James considers what gets him going.

"Little can compare to the heat after a battle. Blood pumping, triumph over coming through another fight alive... I don't know how people don't have the urge to kiss their companion after."

He let out a laugh at that statement, imagining all these poor simpering lords, hoping to come across twin beauties and find out one of them is probably a better fighter than they are.

One corner of his mouth stays up after his laugh dies down, and he salutes her with his glass of wine. "And that, Evie, is why you hold a place of honor on the list. You understand perfectly."

Ordinarily, she wouldn't be surprised to find she was on someone's "list." But given that she'd been rebuffed the first time she'd said she wouldn't mind their relationship going past friendship, and that line had been present ever since. She arches her eyebrows, her hands dropping back to the table top as she tilts her head to the side.

"I made the list? So how many women are ahead of me this time?"

James blinked once more, before he put his glass down and gave her a wry look. "Evie. I don't number my list. It is simply ... people I am attracted to. Besides that, I would not think I deserved another chance with you. Not after everything that happened with that."

More the fool's him, so he would take his punishment for the loss of another good woman. Honestly he should have no romantic entanglements. He just could not seem to get a handle on them...

"You know, I don't pine," she presses her lips together, looking down at her glass of wine, absently rotating it on the table with her fingers on the stem. "I am a conqueror. If there is something I want, I claim it." Her eyes lift to his, steady for a moment, before she looks down again, lifting her glass and taking a sip.

"But you turned me down, and suddenly I found myself pining. My sister has let men destroy her, but that isn't me. I thought about you more than I would have otherwise, but I wasn't undone by your desiring someone else." She exhales, setting her glass down again, biting her bottom lip as she looks up at James again, considering.

"I care about you, James. Enough, that I would give you the opportunity to make up for driving me to such borderline frivolity."

As well you shouldn't. Not over a daft fool like myself. is James's internal thought, as he takes another sip of wine. Letting her air her grievances with him. What she says next, though, has him taking the glass from his mouth, and slowly putting it down on the table.

All the better so he can stare at her with disbelief. He searches her expression, looking for ... he's not entirely certain. Evie would never lie to him, never lead him astray. It was against her very core of honor.

He leaned in across the table, still searching her face. "Evie ... I don't deserve it. I know I certainly don't deserve you." He is quiet for a moment, "...I would like to be."

She stays as she is as he leans in, but her eyes track his movement, and she turns her glass again.

"This could, of course, end in absolute disaster. I'm not... great with feelings." Which is probably why it had knocked her for such a loop when James had decided he'd rather pursue someone else than sleep with her. Avoiding the relationship aspect with people has become something of a specialty of hers.

"But I'd be willing to try, if you are."

He paused for a moment, before chuffing out a noise somewhere between a snort and a bitter laugh. "Well, I am excellent at feelings, apparently, and crap at turning a woman on fire -- so. I suppose we shall meet somewhere in the middle."

He looks at her again, searching her face, before he says simply, "I am currently a drunken mess. After I sober up, there will still be a great deal here that is scarred, tired, and rather unpleasant. Are you certain, Evie?"

She lets out a laugh, leaning forward and resting her elbows against the table as she brings her face level with his.

"I think I can handle it. Provided you remember any of this in the morning." Given that he seems sober enough to be having the conversation in the first place she thinks there's a fair chance, but some people are more eloquent blackout drunks than others.

"I have, alas, a sharp mind and even when I dull it with drink ...I know that I shall remember every iota of anything I may of said or done." He gave her a wry smile, before gesturing solemnly around her, "Why do you think I keep myself to a place where I know I would not give into the desires of the flesh?"

A pause, then he cleared his throat, feeling his face flush and not from wine. "... I mean, besides the person in front of me. That is a given."

Her smile widens as he flushes, and she tilts her head to the side, lips pressed together for a moment.

"Ordinarily I would encourage you to give in to such desires immediately. But in light of our conversation, perhaps that should wait until another night." As much as she hated saying so. She's not a woman who restrains herself in matters of the flesh, but she has some tact when it comes to more emotional matters.

"Yes, I would rather be sober on the night we officially become lovers, thank you so much." He snorted softly, as he looked down at his goblet. "One would not want to have performance issues on top of being ...extremely rusty in certain areas."

He lifted his gaze, and his expression was quieter now, a quiet smile on his face, "So where would you like to start, dear Evie?"

"Oh, I know a few exercises that are good for working out rust," she replies somewhat coyly, her fingers dancing idly across the rim of her glass. When he looks up her smile softens, a peculiar fluttering in her stomach.

"My darling James," she reaches across the table, seeking his hand. "I have no idea. I've never done this. The closest I had was a near-engagement when I was younger, but that was to Valentine and... mostly a game we were both playing."

He gave her a playful eyeroll, "Yes, of course you do. I wouldn't be surprised if there was an Orlesian manual on such a topic."

His fingers wrapped around hers, lightly, because such things were undeniably fragile. "I see ... well. Since all the courting things I have ever done have failed miserably, I suggest we just make our own way. May I offer you another glass of wine?"

Her hands, in spite of the callouses built up from years of holding a sword and shield, are otherwise soft, an obvious testament to a rigorous moisturizing regime. She is an Orlesian after all.

"Making our own way sounds ideal. As does another glass of wine." She lifts her nearly empty glass with her free hand and empties it with a smile, replacing it on the table. "I'm impressed with the quality, here. I wouldn't think a brothel would be discerning with their wines."

While his are rough from all of the above. He is not one for softness, but that might be something of a lie by the look in his eyes at her.

"A noble clientele needs a noble bottle. Or two, or three. Believe me I am paying out of the nose for it." He snorts softly, before he refills both of their glasses from his own bottle.

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[Open] Where There Is No Wine

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