faderift | Player Plot | From Tevinter, With Love

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! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Between the toast and now, Benedict is already on another glass of wine, which makes this his third since arriving; a young man of his slender build is not likely to drink that much without it beginning to show a little, and he can't help but give a loud and quite ungentlemanly bark of laughter at the spectacle of Merrill-- and then this clod, this absolute simpering idiot, trying to speak the Dalish tongue to her.

Though he covers his mouth, the damage is already done, and he's clearly still grinning behind it. "No one can say Loki doesn't have standards," he says as he cups his hand in a stage-whisper to the person beside him, a bit of his wine sloshing onto them in the process.

The Dalish girl is... quite the sight. It would not be done, ever, in Tevinter, dressing her up and welcoming her to a formal meal.

But what is also not done is showing how amused he is by how poorly their guest is reacting to the mess. Thor stands to refill their main guest's glass with a benevolent nod as if he's accustomed to Dalish wandering around everywhere.

"No one can say my brother does not like to keep things interesting," he says to Benedict's failed whisper. Standards? At least she's a mage. Unlike some of the people here at his table.

"She is Dalish, and she can speak for herself, I believe, if you wish to ask her." It costs him nothing to be gracious, and could give them so very much.

A dancing bear in a menagerie.

"Radiant,"

Agreeably. And she is — truly, whoever's seen to her has a dab hand — but that's not why she's been brought, is it?

The itch in his fingers reminds itself, uncomfortably close to the wine. Considers knocking over Benedict's; gives it up for a bad job. The sooner they're all done with this, the better. May it be before the glow of attention can sour.

Bless his heart.

The shem is trying, at least. It's almost flattering. Merrill doesn't giggle, despite herself, and luckily she's not yet of the disposition to roll her eyes at- well, at all of them, really. Instead, she ignores Benedict's snort (you're afraid of caterpillars) and smiles.

"Andaran atish’an," she returns, both a response and a polite correction. "Yes, I'm Dalish." Or was; no need to go into all of that with the number of them. Instead, she comes around to one of the empty seats, settling into the chair.

"My name is Merrill, former First of my clan and companion to the Champion of Kirkwall." You know, since they're wondering why she's here. "It's a pleasure."

There's a moment where it seems as though Hanzo is prepared to push himself up, to clamber to his feet and move away - the urge to flee as soon as the Dalish appears is something that he cannot swallow. He expects a fight - he expects danger - and it curls around him, prickling at him, unsure and uncomfortable. He breathes out, the tension falling from his shoulders when their guest welcomes her.

Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet. He moves around, carefully, and - since it seems she might be staying - draws a chair for her, ignoring anything else anyone might say. It's near enough Aurelius that he won't be offended, but far enough away that she would be safe from anything that he might wish to do.

"Be seated. Please."

If he has misstepped, well. He hasn't been in Tevinter for ten years.

Aurelius is either unaware of or purposefully ignoring Benedict's loud mirth. There are a number of very trained eyes at this table, however, and some of them are certain to judge it the latter. To catch the brief sharp glint of irritation in his eyes, or the way his neck is tensed as if to prevent turning to look.

He is a wealthy merchant, after all. Perhaps not simply by virtue of inheritance from a parent less bumbling and vainglorious than he appears.

He does, however, seem genuinely delighted by Merrill's return greeting, and mumbles it quietly in repetition to fix it in his mind (doing much better at it than before). He smooths his mustache again, smiles, then hands the glass of wine he poured to one of the attendant servants and gestures that it be taken to her before seating himself again after she sits.

"Companion to the Champion, you say! A toast to Messere Hawke is always warranted, I think." Up goes the glass! "Quite proud to do it with the finest wine Tevinter has to offer, as well. After all, I've heard she made the august decision to send that Somniari fellow north to study with us, and took a stand in support of the mages during that horrifying business with Stannard. Not to mention—" his eyes light up, "—were you there when she put down the Arishok and drove the rest of those horned brutes from the city?"

Hanzo is flashed a smile and a quiet "thank you" as she settles in the offered chair. Merrill will definitely drink to Hawke, lifting her new glass in turn. The mention of 'that Somniari fellow' has her eyes light up, and Merrill beams at Aurelius over her glass. "Oh, Feynriel! Yes, that was quite the event."

She sounds quite fond of him - probably because she is - but there's also a bit of underlying curiosity about what Aurelius knows about him. Does he know he's elf-blooded, for instance? That he stayed with her clan until he could no longer do so?

There's a sip of her wine and Merrill nods. For the moment, despite the spotlight on her, she seems comfortable. She loves talking about Hawke, loves Hawke- for all the insane things the group had done, they were family.

"Yes, I was there. It was- I'll never forget that fight. There were times when I could have sworn Hawke wouldn't get up but she kept on going until she ended it."

Player Plot | From Tevinter, With Love

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