Open: Nerva has feelings about Mages

[keeperofmagi]

WHO: Nerva and Open
WHAT: Nerva storms back into Skyhold following the Abomination
WHEN: Before / During the Mage Council meeting
WHERE: The Tavern
NOTES: Nerva is her own warning. Alcohol.

Before the Council meeting, Nerva was nothing but a ball of rage. She had not been in Skyhold when the Abomination struck - sent on a quick escort mission down to the crossroads - and had returned to the remnants of destruction and chaos. Destruction and chaos that should have been prevented. Destruction and chaos that she should have been there to prevent, not out gallivanting around the countryside.

Once the meeting itself started, Nerva had attended despite the fact that she had absolutely no vote in the outcome. She had no power, here - though that was not a difficult thing to reconcile. She'd had no power in the Circle, either - too vocal and distrustful to ever be promoted beyond being a mere grunt. She'd gotten used to the fact that she had no say in policy decisions.

Which was why she had to be as loud and as vocal as possible if she was going to influence the council's decisions at all. That she disagreed with the council existing at all was beside the point. It was reality, and she had to face it. But she didn't like it.

However - she didn't stay for the whole meeting. Once she had said her piece she left - fuming and white knuckled - and stalked straight for the tavern. She usually was careful about her alcohol intake, mostly because she disliked being out of control of herself, but today was a good day to drink until she could at least have a conversation without burning holes through someone just by looking at them. Her rage and grief - a grief old as time but torn open anew with astounding regularity - were almost physical presences around her, hunched over the bar and nursing the wine even as she looked at it in disgust.

Comments

Before the meeting: For Adelaide

[keeperofmagi]

It was not hard to figure out what had happened, who it had happened to, and why it had happened - and Nerva was furious. Of course, she was often furious, but this was a different sort of fury. It was the sort that had a very powerful and sharp sense of failure to it.

She should have been there. She should have done something.

But she wasn't, and she hadn't, so now all she could do was vent her fury and do her best to ensure that it Never Happened Again.

"Councillor LeBlanc." Her voice was sharp, and formal. "I was told you were injured. Have you recovered fully?"

Perhaps from someone else the concern would sound less like rage, but, well, it's Nerva. The concern is real - the idea of her charges hurt by something she should have been able to prevent stings like nothing else.

[fleurdesel]

Merde- this was precisely what she needed before the meeting. Some of the other templars she's managed to relax around, to put some of her fears behind her, to work with. Nerva would never be one of them.

She took a slow breath and reached for placidity. For Compassion. For the mask that she'd become more and more familiar with since the incident. Once she was settled and certain she turned, brow faintly lifted. "I am well. What do you need?"

Nerva would not come to her unless she needed something. Or if she wished to yell. Honestly Adelaide assumed this to be the latter- everyone had so many opinions and for some reason or another, despite the rather large number of other mages (some with more experience than her in a great may things) a good deal of them came to her.

[dreadinquisitor]

Before Maxwell even thought about diving into the bag of stones Gavin had given him, there was planning to be done. There were molds to craft, designs to sketch - ideas to sort and approve or dismiss. Which he could only do after he'd put them to paper and seem them as more than just a glorious thought.

So he was in the tavern, a candle on one side, a mostly ignored mug of ale on the other, a notebook and a well of ink in front of him. His quill scratched on a page already full of small drawings - some of which had dark "x's" cut through them.

He was in the midst of sketching a round, sun and moon pattern when Nerva's glass clinked down sharply beside him again. A hard, sharp rap that jolted the already uncertain table and skipped his quill, turning the moon's sleepy eye into a dark blotch.

He looked up with a little sigh and glanced at her.

"You don't have to finish it, if it's that bad," he told her with a bemused slant of his lips. "There are windows on the second floor: a quick toss and no one's the wiser."

[keeperofmagi]

She looked up sharply, assuming, at first, that he was making fun of her - but after a couple of seconds she let out a breath and returned to glare at her drink.

"It is not the wine that has soured," She said, miserably, and frustrated. "Forgive me if I am spoiling your evening."

She couldn't help but notice his drawing, though, and frowned as she glanced at it.

"You are designing something?"

[wickedchase]

"Well well. A sight I would not have expected of one so rigid as you, Nerva."

Much to their mutual misery, Twisted Fate is inviting himself to sit next to the templar. For him, he very rarely involved himself in such politics, but considering said abomination and the fact that the decision could impede upon his freedom, it seemed necessary.

Far be it from pleasant, though. And pleasantries are something he'd rather have more of, and yet here he is, seating himself next to someone with whom he has a difficult relationship with, to put lightly.

Then again, he'd rather just get this over with.

"Buy you a drink?" he drawls, raising a brow at her.

[keeperofmagi]

"What, you do not think the Inquisition capable of driving me to drink? You underestimate their tenacity."

It was supposed to be a joke. But considering that she nearly snarled while she said it, and that it was growled rather than spoken, it did not sound like a joke on any level.

The question got a confused and suspicious look, and there was an uncomfortable few seconds where it wasn't apparent if she was going to reply at all, or just stare at him, but finally she sighed, and looked back at staring blankly ahead of her.

"If you wish to waste your coin on my weakness, I won't stop you."

[amygdalae]

The entire incident was terrible, there was no denying that, but the loss of the mage that had become the abomination had been equally terrible as well. He knew why it had to happen, yes, but that didn't make anything easier, or better. The loss of a life was still a terrible and tragic thing regardless of the circumstances.

In the aftermath Bruce tried his best to focus on the things that needed to be done - healing the injured, caring for the ones caught in the fight, putting his attention on the needed and the necessary and barely giving any time for himself.

It was the same right now, with Bruce currently crouched on the ground on a spot at the courtyard nearby the tavern as he looked over some of the more elderly patients under his care. They weren't caught in the fight, at least, but the destruction done to the garden had made things difficult for their care. Of course, rather than being concerned about that instead the patients were asking Bruce about the injuries that were on him, but he was politely brushing their concerns off while he attended to them, assuring that it was only a flesh wound and that he would be alright.

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva was fuming - the rage roiling around her as if it had physical form. So it was that she nearly didn't even see Bruce, to pass right by him on her way to the tavern, but she caught him out of the corner of her eye and immediately stopped.

Pushing the broiling thoughts of mages away, she changed direction and walked straight over to him.

"Have you been injured?" She asked, her frown deep and her brows furrowed as she crouched down to get a better look at him.

[girlinthebox]

Rage and grief were what the demons fed on, and their presence was everywhere. One of them had succeeded in slipping through here, of all places, and then it was no longer simply a spirit, a concept, an idea allowed to flourish. It was fury and claws and blood, and twisted as to be unrecognizable.

A monster.

The drone of the tavern was too much when everything still felt raw, too close to the chaos. She lingered outside, on a ledge just below the edge of the battlements, breathing in the cold air and trying to keep the jumble in her head from knotting any tighter.

That could be you. Fall, and so many people could be hurt, killed, and you're only ever inches from the edge. She's hardly the only one to feel this way, she knows, but they serve as echoes, bolstering the thought, until sniffling can be heard from her perch.

[keeperofmagi]

By the time Nerva came out of the Tavern, she was a little more mollified, but her head was also fuzzier - so the rage that roiled was slipping into other places, other times. Thinking about the Council, she suddenly saw Magisters sitting in it, arguing along with them, and so she tried not to think about the council. She stopped just outside the door to the Tavern, breathing in with a sharp, deep breath, as if that would clear both her head and her heart. It did neither. She felt empty, save for the rage.

(Save for a primal fear she neither recognized, nor admitted.)

That was when she heard the sniffling, and her eyes opened. It was a sound disconnected from reality - more connected to the tumbling, fuzzy thoughts in her mind than it was to the cool evening air of Skyhold. So she turned her head to it and immediately located the source of the sound, up on a ledge, and her chest tightened.

"River--" She turned and stepped over until she was standing below there. "River, please come down. Are you alright?"

[rathercommon]

Kitty had been at the meeting, tucked away in a corner, watching the debates, trying not to draw attention to herself. She'd come away confused and conflicted more than anything else. That's the problem. When she'd been in Tevinter, she'd thought of the situation to the south with approval: keep mages restrained, keep them from using their unspeakable power to dominate and oppress the common folk. But it really isn't any better down here. They've gone too far the other way, making mages into virtual slaves. And so the Inquisition had seemed so enlightened by comparison, mages free but everyone else given liberty as well, balance kept...

But she'd seen that abomination. It had been so...horrible. So completely horrible.

She wonders if the woman in front of her, Nerva, who looks so utterly miserable, really is any more certain about things, or if she just acts certain. And so she eyes her cautiously as she pours the woman another goblet of wine - with a very heavy hand, because heavy pours often get you a bit more truth.

"You spoke well, I thought," she says quietly.

[keeperofmagi]

If there was anyone in Skyhold that would be able to talk to Nerva at the moment without her heckles raising - it was a dwarf. So when Kitty sat down with her, and poured her a goblet of wine, she didn't protest, or snap, or snarl. Instead she sighed, and nodded.

"Thank you." For both the words and the wine. The latter she pulled towards her and took a longer drink than she should have.

"Though I admit it is small comfort. I worry that I have made things worse, rather than better."

[onlyhymns]

Cade was at her shoulder for the meeting, and continued to be so even as she stormed out of it. Before she could get far, he caught her by the arm in hopes of stopping her and turning her to face him. "Wait," he hoarsely insisted, glancing around the bustling courtyard and then back to his fellow Templar.
"Don't let them get to you," he said quietly, "mages have always had overblown ideas about autonomy, and they always will. We know better." He watched her sympathetically, seeming to even have a bit of a spine as he spoke. "You spoke well for us. The Grand Enchanter is on our side. The rest will come to their senses." Realizing he still had his hand on her arm, he shyly withdrew his own.

[keeperofmagi]

She turned immediately at the touch, her hand going straight for her blade, but upon seeing that it was Cade she relaxed (slightly) and let go of the hilt.

She let out a hard breath through her nose as her brows furrowed and she looked at the floor.

"Thank you, Cade." The words were heavy, but honest. "But I did not speak well. At least - not eloquently. And you have more faith in the sense of men than I do."

[ungovernable]

A rustle of skirts; the faint scent of the rosewater and ink.

Or: Benevenuta Thevenet, Councilor or Lady depending on to whom she is speaking and when, settling sedately into the seat beside Nerva. There is an available chair opposite her, but there are several reasons why she chooses as she does. She has a cup of brandy, acquired from the bar on her way to Nerva's table, and -

A book.

The silence is companionable, at least on her side of it. She is interested to see which of them will break it first; less a challenge. More an experiment. If it results only in reading her book with her drink until she finishes one or the other and then leaves, well,

that is still a success. In its way.

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva was doing her absolute best to ignore everything and everyone save for the wine in her glass and the wood grain of the bar - which she was quickly memorizing. Twelve slightly sloping lines, a swirl in the left, then 18 more straight lines with a tiny little knot in the right. Counting gave her something else to think about, at least, but it was getting hard to think considering that she didn't need to look at Benevenuta to be able to smell her.

It wasn't that it was even that strong - the scent faint - but it was there, and it was hard to ignore the proximity with which the mage sat.

She hadn't protested when Benevenuta had sat down - mostly because protesting would mean speaking, which she wasn't interested in doing - but she was regretting that decision now. Because the mage had gone and made herself comfortable.

She makes a low sound in her throat - not a word, not quite a growl but somewhere between that and a grunt, and downs the rest of her wine a little too quickly before tapping the glass a little harder than she needed to on the table.

The Tavern

[equanimiti]

There's no amount of mead or rum to appease Sauveterre. Only the bland draught of standard water does well to temper his frustration.

The Knight-Commander wears a grim face as he idly taps his knuckles against the wooden counter of the bar. For the most part, Alayre's participation in that lackluster meeting was scarce. Always playing the role of the observer, Alayre didn't quite like what he witnessed. The Mages are as decisive as ever despite the circumstances they face. Once a stark advocator for the Mages need to organize, Alayre now finds himself regretting endorsing such an idea. While he and Baratheon would often argue about this very subject, Sauveterre now sees why the other Knight-Commander desired to use a firmer hand with these mages. They disrespect the Order and in turn disrespect the very men and women who are supposed to protect them.

A bitter truth.

This is why Alayre seems so grim now. He played a role in allowing this foolishness to be and he vehemently regrets every blasted decision he's made. Perhaps Stannis was right. Skyhold is doom to fall.

[keeperofmagi]

Alayre's company is one of the few that she accepts with a calm equanimity. So though he drinks only water, when his glass becomes empty, she motions to the bar tender to fill it for him.

"I feel that I owe you an apology," She said eventually, the frown deep and her words slightly stilted. "I am not sure that I did the Order any favours, today."

Post Meeting, Next Day?

[madame_de_fer]

Needless to say, tempers at the meeting had become heated more than once. Just because Madame de Fer did not froth at the mouth did not imply she was not privately seething to herself. This travesty was the very thing she had tried to warn those stubborn ninnies about. That they are now willing to sit up and listen to her, and stop attempting to play games with ignoring the issue hoping it would go away? No consolation whatsoever.

Vivienne could never be accused of brooding, but she does have a habit of giving herself time to quietly review and think over issues. One cannot be a skilled player of the Game without taking adequate time to ponder next moves. Which is why it takes her a day following the meeting to extend an invitation to Nerva to join her for tea. Delivered by a messenger, of course.

[keeperofmagi]

She woke up more than a little hung over - but a good hours worth of training and lots of water and a hearty breakfast soon put her to rights. Or, well, as right as she could be - with the threat of a new abomination hanging over her at any second.

She received the note after she finished towelling off from her training session, and frowned down at it, her brows furrowed. Tea, with Madame de Fer. Empress Celene's most trusted Mage.

She frowned at the note, unsure what to do with it, but Vivienne had been one of the few mages to say anything that made any sense, at the meeting, and it wouldn't be wise to scorn someone so close to the Empress. (She was, after all, something of a loyalist.) So though she hemmed and hawed wished that she was at all the sort of graceful person that would know how to properly reply to the invitation, she eventually told the messenger that she would accept, and showed up to Vivienne's little parlour that over looked the great hall a little while later.

She was, as always, in full armour - but tellingly, had decided not to bring her shield. She stood somewhat awkwardly at attention before clearing her throat to announce her presence. "Madame, you requested my company?"

Tavern

[nofury]

Maria staid for the entirety of the meeting. Whether she approved or not was secondary to knowing to the fullest extent possible what was occurring. The fact of the matter was she wanted the mages and Templars to progress together towards a workable solution, but if that was impossible she had no doubt which group would ultimately win in the Inquisition. The mages were looking to build a society, the Templars an army. One of these was of more use in the current battle.

But she was well aware of the state of her fellow Templars, and so she wasted little time in coming down to join Nerva in the tavern once everything was said and done. She brought a new bottle of wine and a cup for herself along.

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva looked almost harrowed by the time that Maria arrived, and when she looked up to see the woman approaching, she looked very relieved.

"I take it you stayed for the rest of the meeting?" She asked, as it had been a few hours. "I thought it was best to - remove myself. And I owe you an apology, if I made it more difficult, in the long run."

Tavern

[dairsmuid]

Alcohol isn't Elian's medicine of choice--his medicine of choice is pretending not to be sick until it goes away--but he finds Nerva after the meeting adjourns all the same and slides onto a stool next to her to order a mug of the taven's weakest, wateriest ale.

"It's a fine thing to be told we aren't needed after all, isn't it?" he says to her while he's accepting the drink, without looking at her. "All these centuries, and all that Thedas needed was a proper training program."

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva grunts with complete agreement, even raising her glass a little in his direction - similarly without looking at him.

"Maker forbid that we have any idea what we are talking about. No, we are the monsters, all of us - tarnished by the actions of a few and now kept from doing what Thedas has entrusted us with for centuries."

She scowled and then threw her head back to down the rest of her drink. "I only hope that their foolishness does not result in the destruction of Skyhold itself."

tavern.

[liberalum]

"Allow me to run a theory by you."

The last person Nerva might wish to speak to materialises somewhere behind her, foregoing formal greeting or, indeed, invitation, as Dorian slides into view to lean back against the bar. In one hand is a mostly depleted tankard of southern ale.

"The requisitions officers accidentally ordered five barrels of white vinegar instead of the five bottles as requested. Rather than admit their error, they started frantically filling up glass bottles with the stuff, corking them, and hoping no one would tell the difference between that and southern vintage if they sneaked them into Skyhold's cellar. Because I absolutely can't."

Which is why he is drinking beer, probably.

He hadn't left mid-meeting. He had wanted to, at times, wrankled at the handling of debate and, a little bit, at the response to debate at all. Although he may have found Nerva's opinions as worthless as the next Templar, there was something about them that landed him here. (That, and there's yet more he needs to discuss, and while she's drinking sounds like as good a time to do that as any.)

Re: tavern.

[keeperofmagi]

"If the vinegar has any measure of alcohol in it, I can't bring myself to care," Nerva replied grumpily - though the fact that she replied at all, rather than just grunt or sigh or roll her eyes is probably a good indication of just how many glasses of vinegar she has downed already.

"If you keep to the wine you can at least trust that they were forced to colour it, before serving it." Maybe. She didn't think there were red vinegars, but was suddenly struck by the fact that there probably were fancy red orlesian vinegar and she had just outed herself as being incredibly uncultured, which made her scowl, and grunt. There you go, Dorian. There was the response she was supposed to give.

"Have you come to crow, or just to heckle."