Player Plot | From Tevinter, With Love

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Alexandrie, Benedict, Byerly, Fifi, Hanzo, Isaac, Loki, Merrill, Romain, Thor
WHAT: A diplomatic dinner and mysterious murder most foul
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: the Asgard estate in Hightown
NOTES: OOC Poast, CW: rich people being garbage, elf related racism, other updates to come as they apply!

In the wake of the events in Minrathous, there has been a great deal of reshuffling of power and alliances both within the Imperium and between those within it and the surrounding powers. A particularly well-off Laetan merchant by the name of Flavius Aurelius is one such alliance shuffler. He has holdings in the south along the border and a number of cross-country trading caravans and has made overtures of aid in getting Inquisition personnel into (and around) the country in exchange for protection against having his lands occupied and used to do the precise opposite of what he's offering.

This is a rather good deal for the Inquisition, especially since it involves more risk on his part than theirs, and so all attempts are to be made to convince him that he'll be a valued member of the cause. By his countrymen in particular, who may enjoy particular success in doing so for a variety of reasons. Thus, the Tevene contingent of the Inquisition—as well as diplomatic representatives from Ferelden, Orlais, and a wayward Dalish elf—find themselves in the position of doing this due diligence, in the hopes that this will make things go smoothly—better than smoothly if possible—at the meeting established for the next day to discuss terms.

What better way than a small dinner party?


[ ooc: toplevels will be added beneath as they happen! ]

Comments

Earlier in the Day

[coquettish_trees]

Everything is in order for Aurelius's arrival. With the brothers having taken up positions in the Inquisition that necessitate more work and Alexandrie now far more often in residence at her paramour's home than her own, she has taken up the work belonging to the lady of the house. If there is a bit of Orlesian influence along with the Tevene in the way the flowers have been chosen and arranged and the manner in which the table is laid, well, she's never been one to avoid indulging herself. It is however, on the whole, a picture perfect and precise setup for a small intimate dinner for a guest of Aurelius's social standing that one wishes to honor.

Once Benedict arrives looking properly dashing she leaves everything in his care, and excuses herself along with Fifi, once she'd finished with her friend—they were cute, and Alexandrie was feeling kindly—to get ready before anyone arrives.

[ooc: for your arrival and preparation threads and anything you'd like to do/discuss before our guest of honor shows up]

hanzo | ota

[eruit]

It takes Hanzo a little while to get ready. It's been a long time since he went to anything resembling a proper Tevinter dinner party - almost more than a decade, now, adding in his time with the Inquisition. He has to take care to adjust his grooming, to reshape his face, to clean himself up and to hide the dangerous circles that rest under his eyes. He has to dress better - in proper, formal attire - and he has to make sure his spirits are quiet.

He shows up a little earlier than he was told to do, looking better. His bow is with him, but he is more than willing to allow it to be placed somewhere safe - and close - for the duration of the dinner. What is most obvious, to those that know him, is that he actually looks like a proper Tevinter Magister; he is standing taller, his hair is tied properly, his golden tie firmly in place.

He looks dangerous and he's well aware, even with his tattoo covered.

Until the dinner starts, Hanzo settles himself on the edge of the gathering, jaw tight and expression set. He is here because it is in his best interests to know what is happening with Tevinter and because it is best for him to keep an eye on Benedict, too, despite the circumstances.

[wythersake]

Cheerfully, under his breath:

"You look like a prat." Isaac adjusts one of his own sleeves (shabby beside a duke, but aren't they all?) to briefly sweep in. "Pretend you want to be here."

He's hardly alone in disdaining circumstance, but glowering like a gaudy statue in the corner is only so charming.

[eruit]

"That is the point."

Hanzo isn't here to look like a handsome young man, after all. Hanzo is here to be a particular face, to look the part, to act as though he is still some kind of member of Tevinter society even though he has been away from it for a long time. His nose wrinkles, just a little, but he stands a little taller all the same.

"No one from Tevinter wants to be anywhere. Acting otherwise would be foolish."

[wythersake]

"And what's that say about why you're presently outside it?"

He smiles, drinks (juice; thank you, Maker knows how much the fruit cost).

"And what capital —" Lack of it. "— Your involvement has to offer?"

[eruit]

"I am a friend of House Asgard. That is enough."

He thinks, for now, at least. He is a friend of House Asgard and... Something to Benedict's house, whatever is happening between the two of them. That's something he doesn't want to spend too much time considering.

"Whatever capital I am worth depends on what they see in me. It is for them to judge. That is how it is." Let them see that House Asgard has found and befriended the errant leader of House Shimada. Let him see what happens as a result of that.

[wythersake]

Isaac restrains himself from squinting. It’s a narrow feat, worthy of a medal.

(At least a prize ribbon.)

“Are you quite certain,” It’s very possible he’s misjudged the situation — Isaac’s place upon this little outing is as an acceptably-servile stand-in for the South; the position from which he’s used to negotiating these affairs has never been one of advantage or pride. But also: come on, “That you should be here?”

Maker knows people will judge. That’s the point of diplomacy: Swaying the verdict.

[[ email tags, gomen for any html errors!! ]]

[altusimperius]

It takes Benedict a little while to finally shake Flavius (so revoltingly surnamed with his own father's given name), and it's with a sneer of distaste that he steps over to Hanzo, as much for cover as for anything else. "You look the part," he says, in a tone that suggests he is either playfully joking or.. very much not.

[eruit]

"That was the intention."

Hanzo doesn't turn to look at Benedict, at least not immediately, but he takes a deep breath and looks over. It feels odd, to be so well dressed, to appear as what he is rather than what he is pretending to be, and he can feel it twist around him. There's a burn of something anxious in his stomach, but he forces it away. Here, now, he is the image of a Magsiter, at least in appearance - his heart does not have to be in it.

"It would be meaningless if I looked... Myself."

[altusimperius]

Benedict unsubtly glances him up and down, casting a snide little smirk at Hanzo in reaction. Cute.
"Well," he says primly, "let's hope our friend here drinks himself to forgetfulness." Lowering his voice, and in a mischievous tone, he adds, "or, you know. More. Anything to prevent him coming back."

[eruit]

He stands taller beside Benedict, trying to match his height despite the disparity between them. There's something sharp about it, about trying to prove that he can be what he had abandoned, trying to act as though he is what he... Isn't. It's a mixed, complicated thing, and he has to force himself to stand as tall as possible, to be superior, to be the slave owning, magic wielding master of the Shimada clan.

The smirk doesn't help, and he gives Benedict a sharp look, one only just softens as he looks away. He can't let the man think he gets away with everything, after all.

"It no longer matters if he remembers my presence or not." Hanzo's voice is lower, softer. "I... I am unsure what my future may hold, but it may include my family." Why tell Benedict this? Because, a small voice says, Benedict is one of the few people who knows the truth.

[thorndergod]

Thor joins Hanzo on the side, giving the man a smile and approving nod. Subtle he is not. But at least it looks like a warm greeting rather than anything else.

"You look the part," he says simply before gesturing at the bow. "Would you like that to be in our weapons room? I've a case for my favorite staves. It is enchanted and secure."

Why the man brought a bow while trying to actually look like what he is escapes Thor... but he will not push. Hanzo is not a man who seems entirely secure in who he is. Questions may only shake the face he's putting on.

[eruit]

There's a reason for the bow, even if Hanzo would never admit it to most. He's afraid of what might happen if he is too far from his spirits, even now with the promise of a family place settling on his shoulders.

"That was the intention," he says gently, frown still settled on his face. He looks half miserable, he's sure, but he manages a nod, sharp and sure, all the same. "... Please. I would be more comfortable knowing it was somewhere protected."

Let Thor think what he likes about why Hanzo has Storm Bow at his side. A dinner party this might be but it does not mean you should neglect your defences, especially with a Tevinter man around.

[thorndergod]

"This way." Hanzo's tension suggests maybe Thor should show him the case rather than simply taking the bow and putting it away, or calling a sl--servant to do so. They're also sorely lacking in proper service here - the only one Thor would truly trust to know the enchantments and put the bow away correctly and securely is currently waiting on their guest.

Thor heads through a side door, one covered by some sort of newly added tapestry. It is probably near to time that he calls this household to some sort of order, the Orlesian lady does not run it, but that does not have to be today.

Deftly he undoes the locks on a larger engraved stone and glass cabinet, something very clearly heavy and expensive and filled with very nice staves, before gesturing to its insides.

"It will be safe here."

[eruit]

Hanzo appreciates being taken there personally. It's very difficult for him to find proper words to express just what Storm Bow means, how important it is, because he does not want to betray the nature of his spirits to anyone, at least without his consent and some time to prepare. Separating himself from them, even for a short time, is a difficult thing - and while they might be able to join him at some distance... After a period they must return to where they are bound.

He does not think he will be able to feel them in Thor's magical safe.

The cabinet seems secure enough, at least, and it means that Hanzo can look it over without too much hesitation, letting his fingers run over the frame of the bow with some hesitation. The faint, light glow that comes from it is likely enough for even Thor to see, and Hanzo breathes a noise before he moves forward and places the bow inside.

He immediately feels bereft.

"... You have my thanks." Stepping back is almost painful, and he seems sour despite his fanciful clothing. "I will return as soon as dinner is complete."

for Merrill

[untiltheyarent]

There isn't much Fifi has in the way of fine clothes-- most of her nicer dresses were lost in the various perils on the way from Val Royeaux to here-- but she asked Merrill to bring the finest thing she has, and failing that, there's always something borrowed from the ever-magnanimous Alexandrie.

When Merrill arrives, Fifi greets her with a grin and beckons her away from the door, toward the stairs to the servants' quarters so they can prepare.

[chainlightning]

There aren't many pieces that Merrill has that most people would consider fine - or 'civilized', for that matter. She has a green dress from the ball in Orlais, though, the one that Martel had insisted she have - and she has a few accessories, both from that ball and from her travels, that she thinks might work. Her staff is not one of those accessories, but she brings it anyway. It's a Tevinter estate and she is not going to be the only mage without a staff.

Any worries about that are forgot, however, when she shows up and meets Fifi. She grins back and follows her, free hand fiddling with the silver locket around her neck.

"It's funny how similar the houses in Hightown look," Merrill muses. "The Hawke estate is fairly similar."

[untiltheyarent]

"These Marchers have no imagination," Fifi remarks chipperly, leading her down, "all straight lines and slave statues. Say what you will of Val Royeaux's wealthy, they have style."
She comes to her room, blessedly a single, and guides the door open to usher Merrill inside. It's a modest chamber, with very little in it to suggest the presence of any one specific person, though a nail on the wall above the bed holds a woven collar with the name 'CLOCHETTE' stitched in.
There's also a single mirror, albeit with no vanity, but Fifi ushers Merrill in front of it and stands behind her.
"Would you like anything on your face?" she asks, with barely concealed delight, "I can paint you like a dancer, if you like."

[chainlightning]

"They didn't even remake most of the city when they took it," Merrill adds, shaking her head. Thanks for keeping the super confusing Tevinter magic symbols, Kirkwall. Not.

A bit uncomfortable in front of mirrors, Merrill takes the opportunity to look at anything but her reflection - the room, the collar, and Fifi behind her. The question makes her blink for a moment, and then there's a little giggle. "What are dancers painted like?" There's a gesture at her inked cheeks a moment later. "Would it cover the vallaslin? I'm not sure if that would be good or bad, in this situation."

[untiltheyarent]

"Red lips, dark eyes," Fifi replies, "I wouldn't cover it, unless that's what you want." A pause, a tinge of pink appearing on her cheeks, though she turns away to scoot a little box out from under the bed, "...I think it's lovely."

for Loki

[thorndergod]

Things have been tense. Civil, but tense. They've fought before, certainly, but it's never been over something so huge as loss.

Some days Thor feels it's fine to have a distance. Loki has always been... well. Thor has lost track of the times his brother has attacked him or had him attacked. If they're cool toward each other than Loki's mood is less likely to burst into flames and spur him into yet another attack.

On the other hand, Thor misses their former closeness. They don't see eye-to-eye on so many things, but Loki his his brother and he loves him. This hand, these feelings, wind up winning out so on the afternoon of the party he seeks out his brother, searching for the right words to say.

"Is this an acceptable time to speak?" Those probably aren't the best words, but he feels them a decent start.

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki has watched as they prepare for the party, has drank lightly in boredom and considered reading only to abandon it. He has not had much call to be merry since their return and, thus far, doesn't really see the appeal beyond the necessity of this man's appeasement.

When Thor approaches him, he is holding a glass of white wine in one hand and staring out the windows over the bay. He turns to his brother and, rather than grant him a snarky response, considers how to answer.


"I suppose so."

[thorndergod]

The reply could be far worse. Thor chooses to accept it and step to his brother's side, looking out to the view as well. It's a pleasant enough one, but he cannot allow it to be a distraction the way he'd like.

"We have been at odds," he says after a few moments of looking out at the ships and bustle. "But you are my brother, and we are in a hostile land. It..."

There's a short beat. He isn't the sole one responsible, but that doesn't really matter. Loki holds a grudge like no other and Thor has always had to sacrifice for peace by going first. It is sometimes exhausting but it is what it is.

"I should not have allowed it to linger for so long. We are each others' best allies, and you are dear to my heart."

[hwaaaitsme]

Thor has come...not to apologize, but to establish their current state. Loki harbors a touch of resentment at that and, despite himself, his eyes narrow just a fraction for a moment. He takes a sip of his wine and his expression evens as he considers his brother. Ultimately they are in no different state than they were before...save now they are bereft of one parent.

"Such a comprehensive apology, how can I resist?" Loki asks in deadpan but there is, oddly, no bite to it. Not even manufactured bite.

"Rest at ease brother. I don't plan on declaring us enemies tonight."

[thorndergod]

Has there ever been a time when he has not had to make the first step? It makes Loki's comment rankle, but again, this is always the way of things. It's never mattered that he's the one approaching, shouldering that burden.

"I seek for us to be more than simply not-enemies," he says, pushing back the little annoyance that's surfaced. "This city is weak, the land is weak, there is nothing here that could stand against House Asgard if we were united. And I believe we still share common cause."

Defeating Corypheus has to be foremost in both of their minds, he's certain. After? With the way Lexie has been acting, and Loki as well, Thor fairly well expects them to make a move against him. But if they would put that ahead of Corypheus' defeat he will have sorely overestimated his brother's heart.