whisper campaign!!

[hornswoggle]

WHO: john, max, thor, sidony, lakshmi, freddie, lexie, romain
WHAT: gossipin' at a fancy party in ostwick.
WHEN: wobbles hand
WHERE: ostwick
NOTES: will update as needed!

Comments

[thorndergod]

"I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you, my lady." It's hard to fake apologize. The words feel clunky and wrong, and he knows she's not actually afraid. No one who is easily frightened spends any sort of time with Loki.

"The Venatori are not looking for new bloodlines as much as they are looking for the use of blood, I fear. My House abstains from such unpleasant activities," at least he can manage that lie, protecting Loki has nearly always been second nature, "but there are many who see opportunities in the chaos and it is known that there is power there. And those who want power, Grand Clerics included, are sometimes not picky about how they gain it. She will need to gain stability fast, in these times. It could be... expedient."

He puts on a face that's meant to look heavy in thought, and effectively looks like he has a headache. Close enough.

[coquettish_trees]

It's fine, of course. The gracelessness of his false apology only makes it look like he doesn't believe his own reassurance about the Grand Cleric either.

With his next implication, Alexandrie's fan stops entirely and she shakes her head quickly. "You must not say such things, my lord. A Grand Cleric, willingly consorting with a threat to us all in order to consolidate power in the..." She swallows visibly and looks away, focusing on the chandeliers that light the ballroom, and hopes at least one of those watching can in fact read lips.

"Do... do you think she might be counting upon Corypheus and the Venatori being satisfied with the conquering of Tevinter? Treating with him, even, to gain such swift stability?" It is a near whisper, albeit a terribly well enunciated one.

[thorndergod]

He shrugs at the first, and thankfully that's genuine. He has no real faith in their fake Clerics and Divine here. Why wouldn't a Grand Cleric consort with anyone and everyone for power's sake? The Black Divine is the true head of the church.

To the other, he manages to look concerned... because he is a little. No one in the south counts Tevinter as a loss. If they could end the war by giving up Tevinter, they'd do it, no matter how they'd be fooling themselves and giving Corypheus time to build up and consolidate.

"She has never dealt with a war before," he says finally, in a lower-than-his-usual-loud-but-still-a-little-loud voice. "She has never had an enemy who is ready to bide their time and make decisive strikes. I have. I have fought the qunari who raid our shores for a long time, and I know to treat with him would be an invitation to future disaster. Would she? She is no battle-hardened warrior. She deals in battles of words, not blood, and a promise of temporary stability may be appealing to such a person."

[coquettish_trees]

Finally, the delicate court blossom looks as if she has had as much doomsaying as her poor constitution can take without needing a chaise lounge to collapse upon. Alexandrie's hand resumes its prior place on his arm, although it seems it's to steady herself rather than apologize.

"We... we would do well to keep our own council on the matter, my lord." She speaks audibly again, through a smile that is bright and sweet and a truly terrible mask for the depth of unease it attempts to hide. "We should... hardly wish to start a panic over something so..." Her eyes shift, looking everywhere but her companion. "Entirely unlikely." Again, laughter, although it is high and brittle.

"Tell me, do you dance?" she asks swiftly as the chamber orchestra at one end of the room begins another spritely number.

[thorndergod]

He glances around now, for the first time. Thor hadn't wanted to do it before just in case he gave something away, but now that she's spoken it seems the right cue to follow. Some seem turned enough toward them that maybe they've made some stir and gotten some word out there.

"Of course," Thor says a half-beat late, trying to pull himself out of wondering if he's actually helped. His smile returns and he holds out a hand. "I am the heir of my house, my lady, and dancing is considered a required skill for an heir to have. Shall we?"