Closed | La Vie en Rogue

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Byerly, Lexie, and Loki
WHAT: A Fereldan, an Orlesian, and a Tevene walk into an opera. Then a restaurant. Then who knows.
WHEN: Presently
WHERE: Hightown
NOTES: cw: the woooorst ♫ they're the worst in the world. (will update if necessary)

[ Alexandrie was tired. Tired of feeling like trusting another lady's maid with her hair and dress was the same as wishing death or disaster on Emile. Tired of looking at her jewelry box and remembering only the souvenir she had bought for Gwenaëlle moments before happening upon the brothers Asgard and their mother and, consequently, what had followed. Tired of looking at two pairs of slippers and not being able to tell the difference between them because honestly what was the point of multiple pairs of slippers when Red Lyrium was being grown inside people to fuel the army rolling slowly but seemingly inexorably across Thedas.

Then eventually, one morning, she had been tired of being tired. Had stretched, had nibbled at Loki's ear persistently until he woke, (had been summarily distracted for an hour or so,) and had then informed him they were going to the opera that evening, that she would shortly be sending a servant out to get them seats, and that she would be requiring Fifi for the rest of the day, as she was beginning her preparation now.

This is how Alexandrie and Loki, both polished to a rather defiant perfection, ended up at the opera.

How Byerly ended up at the opera, however, slipping into the seat on Alexandrie's right just as the overture began and looking the very picture of innocent surprise that this was how events had transpired, was anyone's guess. ]

Comments

[hwaaaitsme]

[Startling Alexandrie was rarely his goal but, as she drew open the door, resolute and intending to charge forth only to start with surprise, well, he cannot say he laments it. Her sudden exclamation is soft and reprimanding and it brings a slow smile to his face. He does recall, however, that he stands next to a truly infuriating man and so the tenderness in that expression is quickly masked and it is replaced, wholesale, with a more fitting smirk.]

My dear.

[Loki leans on the edge of the doorway, his shoulder just braced to the wall.]

Was our guess incorrect, was your sudden departure not an invitation?