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

[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.

[ungovernable]

Benevenuta isn't the only one who glances up, at that - Nerva is difficult to miss when she isn't being unusually passive aggressive for someone who seems to have so much of the normal kind to spread around with a shovel - but she is among the least fazed by it, a thoughtful lift of her gaze from the page to the glass and then to the woman who lowered it so decisively. So audibly.

So that's how it is, she thinks, tilting her head. It isn't so much that she decides not to be offended so much as it seems she would've had to decide to let her hackles rise - and there is little about the way she's conducted herself in Skyhold that would lead anyone to think that's a decision she'd readily make in place of an alternative. She considers Nerva for a few moments, and then,

"Shall we have another here?"

to the barkeep.

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva, on the other hand, couldn't stop her heckles from rising even if she wanted to. A lack of control over her emotions was something that only served to make her angrier with herself, which meant that when the bartender came over with another glass of wine, she gave him a glare so dark that he gulped as he set it down and then quickly left.

She took a sip - well, it was a little more than a sip - and finally simply sighed.

"Is there something you require, Councillor?" She asked, the Orlesian accent crisp and formal. She didn't look over at her.

[ungovernable]

A brief exchange of gestures indicates that the drink is to be accounted for by Benevenuta, later; at Nerva's tight inquiry, she allows herself to return to her reading, at least for the time being, taking a sip - no, a sip - from her brandy before she answers it neatly, "No."

Another sip. She might say that it's unlikely she'll be interrupted here, as Nerva is not a woman to be lightly approached - but she doubts playfulness would be well received, if it were even recognised for what it was. As amusing as it might be to play the wounded dove at a poorly received flirtation, and as much as she might like to amuse herself a bit after all of that, it strikes her as somewhat imprudent and decidedly counterproductive.

Besides, it amuses her to think of, so the job is done.

"I have all that I require, thank you."

[keeperofmagi]

It is so far from the reply that she expected that Nerva has literally no idea what to think, or say, in response. The confusion is writ clearly on her face and she glares down at her wine as if it may have some better answers for her. No one ever just sits down near her and - reads? Especially not a mage. Usually there is a lot more scowling, or sniping, or groaning. Generally it just involved a lot more aggression - passive or otherwise - and especially after the scene in the council room, she didn't expect mere...

Whatever this was.

So she lets the silence fall again as she tries to work out exactly what game Benevenuta is playing with her. Because it must be a game, somehow. That was the only way this made sense. Some sort of subtle mockery that she didn't understand, or some kind of test--

The more she thought about it, the more agitated she became, and the wine was still absolutely no good in supplying any answers for her.

There must be something she was supposed to say. Benevenuta's comments at the council had half been productive and half not - though she couldn't really argue with them. After all, she was right. The Order was dead, here. Nerva was a templar - she never would not be - but the Order itself was in ruins. She could have said something to that effect, perhaps, but when she finally elected to glance over at her silent companion - and see that she was, legitimately, just sitting there and reading - the confusion only deepened and Nerva looked back to her wine.

She sighed - this time more quietly, only to herself - raised her glass, and took another drink.

Maker, but she was no politician.

[ungovernable]

Politics, maneuvering, politesse - these things are what Benevenuta lives and breathes, so demurely, so deliberately. So calmly, as Nerva's agitation grows beside her. She is settled where she sits, comfortable as Nerva had noted, with a book that she well might have carried up the Frostbacks with her when she first arrived, by the look of it. A novel, nothing provocative, no magical research for her Templar companion to take issue with, no reminder that she is besides having perhaps the most sunny disposition on the Council of Magi also a Necromancer; a Nevarran author, not some work of Tethras. The book is worn, its title lost to age, not quite dog-eared but well-loved.

Comfort reading. A book that looks like that is not new to its reader. She must all but know it by heart, so it doesn't matter whether she keeps her place or not when she sets it down to take up her glass more thoughtfully, resting her elbow on the table and leaning a little to let their conversation be more private.

(She is not unpleasant to be beside. At least, as long as one doesn't take issue with the long list of things about her that might not serve her well in all company.)

"It is good," she says, serenely conversational, "to be seen to live as you speak. It is good to live as you speak. I have no quarrel with the Templars in Skyhold. And I have no quarrel with you. It is my belief, as I said once to Knight-Commander Baratheon before his departure, that it is valuable for us to learn to be at ease with one another, to be civil and thoughtful. So that we may better work together, for the Inquisition. In the end, that is what brought us here and what matters."

Her tone is fond, when she refers to Stannis; he will not have called her his friend, she thinks, but she considers him one and while he was here he behaved, in his way, as if she is. She considers for a moment, and then says,

"I doubt that we agree on all things. Perhaps not even most," a little wryly, "but I see that you are trying, that you speak to what you believe. That, I respect. It is a place to begin."

[keeperofmagi]

She doesn't recognize the novel, save to recognize it for what it was. Reading for the sake of it. Reading for the pleasure of it. It lies at odds with everything that had happened today enough to take her aback - but then the mage spoke.

Nerva stilled, looking down into her cup as Benevenuta spoke.

It was placating, for the most part. She knew enough to recognize that. Stating the obvious in order to ease the path into the conversation. Fine. But she would go straight to the point.

"And what exactly is it that you are looking to begin, from that place?"

[ungovernable]

Benevenuta is undeterred by the brusque nature of Nerva's bluntness, her small smile lingering.

"Just what I have said," she says, mild but not pointedly so - she is not surprised that Nerva imagines she has some game in mind, and...she does, only: it is exactly what she's said it is, for once. If there are other benefits to be found - and there will be - she will find them later. This is a perfectly adequate starting point, both in terms of beginning and of setting goals.

Her shrug is lithe - her gesture easy, the grace that comes from the very physical practise of magic in Thedas. "Templars, mages ... this is the Inquisition. It does not serve anyone for us to sit in our separate corners, nursing our separate hurts. And for the most visible and vocal of us," with a wry look; Benevenuta, visible, and Nerva, very vocal, "to be always at odds, and always apart ... it is our examples that are seen. And followed."

She thumbs the edge of her cup, with a sigh.

"I think Stannis does not believe, entirely, that it will ever be different. But I think we cannot succeed in what we do that way - and what we are doing here is more important than anything else. So I would set a better example. And match my actions to my words. And prove him wrong."

It isn't defiant. She thinks he'd be pleasantly surprised.

[keeperofmagi]

She isn't sure what to do, with such frankness. She wanted it, true, but in her experience mages were rarely so forthcoming about their intentions, so she can't help but try to decode it - to find the true meaning that she suspects are behind Benevenuta's words. But for the life of her, she cannot find anything.

So instead she simply frowns, looking at her the way a smith might assess a piece of gold, to ascertain its quality.

"I see." She said finally - still obviously not completely convinced, but unwilling - or unable - to give an argument against it. She let out a breath, before turning her frown down to her drink.

"... I hold no grudge against you, Councillor. And if you believe that being seen in together in public will strengthen the Inquisition..." She trailed off, because she didn't want to admit it, but she saw the point. Besides - it would be easier to keep an eye on the mages if they came to her willingly. "Then I shall keep your company."

[ungovernable]

The best defense is a good offense; Benevenuta is often frank, for being such an inveterate liar. Under Nerva's renewed scrutiny, she is smilingly inscrutable - nothing to see but what she has decided to show, which in this instance is her cards. Maybe not all of them, not all of what drives her, but all of what drove her to Nerva's side, this evening.

Honesty, she thinks, will get her far with this one. There must be no crack for Nerva to leverage an argument out of.

"I believe it," she reiterates, taking up her book again. "I shall finish my book, then - perhaps another day we might have a game of chess."

[keeperofmagi]

She let out a long breath, with a soft grunt, that was probably some sort of agreement. Not exactly pleased, but not exactly displeased. An acceptance of a duty, perhaps.

She would turn it over a hundred times later, when she was more sober.

Chess, indeed.