II. CLOSED.

[liberalum]

WHO: Dorian Pavus and Beneventa Thevenet
WHAT: Dorian and Benevenuta investigate the matter of Magister Pavus's retainer in Redcliffe, and then ride back to Skyhold.
WHEN: Haring 10
WHERE: On the road from Redcliffe.
NOTES: Feelings.

They'd left Redcliffe at a brisk canter, bordering on gallop. Kicking dust and frightening peasants, Dorian had set the pace. There would be no drinking at the tavern.

Which is a damn shame, because there's fuck all between Redcliffe and the ride back up the Frostback Mountains. Not that Dorian is completely unprepared; he hadn't touched his flagon of wine all this journey, as if miraculously sensing he might want it for the trip up. This probably still holds true, even if he rides with the sort of grim determination of a man who is content with the thought of forcing his steed (a spirited gelding by the name of Bucks) at a steady trot for the next two days.

His composure had shattered as soon as his father had appeared at the bottom of the tavern staircase. Halward Pavus, here, in the south, with his immaculate enchanter robes, his east Tevene accent that Dorian himself had lost somewhere around his fourth Circle. It was impossible, and he'd shouted some things he'd rather not have shouted in Benevenuta's presence. After she'd left, and after he'd exited the tavern -- an optimistic half an hour -- he hadn't shouted anything at all, and only spoken the necessary amount to convey he was well and they would be leaving, after all, his expression stormy.

The wind is coming down cold off the Frostbacks and night is beginning to paint the sky, around when his horse stubbornly slows into a walk. He curses under his breath in a swift hiss of Tevene; "Fasta vass."

Comments

[ungovernable]

The trip to Redcliffe had been - it had been much as she'd expected it would be. She had dutifully seen Adelaide's letter delivered for her and made not at all awkward conversation outside of the tavern while she waited; a bit of gladhanding on the Inquisition's behalf while they were there could scarcely go amiss, she'd thought, and better that later there was someone who remembered the Inquisition's Council of Magi taking an interest and a conversation to be had that wasn't about trouble out of Tevinter.

That had been the prudent course of action, then. Now, it is to rein in at Dorian's side, placid in her usual way, and suggest, "Perhaps we might trade."

Bucks and his present master are not quite complementary, in temperament, and she is not riding all the way back to Skyhold dealing with their temperaments. Star is harder to rile and quick on her feet, and if nothing else, she'd sort of wanted his horse at the start, anyway. One of them might as well be comfortable, as she waits for wine or time to do the job of coaxing out of him what had happened.

Or at least for them to prompt that he wished to be coaxed.