III. SEMI-CLOSED.

[liberalum]

WHO: Dorian Pavus and the continued adventures of less dashing people.
WHAT: After briefly reuniting with his father, Dorian returns to Skyhold to navigate the current local turmoil and not have feelings where anyone can see.
WHEN: The latter half of Haring.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: This is a catch-all for pre-planned threads, rather than open prompts. PM or plurk me if you'd like to do something!

Comments

mess hall. cassandra pentaghast.

[liberalum]

Usually, Dorian takes his meals up into the library and get scowled out for putting red wine in proximity of invaluable codices, or he might visit someone in seclusion for dinner, such as Felix, Adelaide, Benevenuta. Rarely does he deign to dine with the rabble. Maybe he is that snooty.

Maybe he doesn't mind others assuming he is that snooty. Regardless, today is the exception.

Cassandra's relative peace over dinner is thus shattered as Dorian sits opposite her, setting down the usual Charming Rustic Fare of brown meat in brown... brownness, and his helping of ale. There's a mild thump as something else is set down between them. "A little bird told me you were in the market."

It's a book, leather-bound, but cheap. The title printed is Passion's Blade. "That one is terrible in a manner I think you will particularly enjoy."

[cicatrices]

Cassandra seems unbothered by the brownness, mechanically slicing a chunk of what must be potato with the side of her fork. She looks up when Dorian sits and down when he plunks the book on the table. Her expression, immediately annoyed at being interrupted, darkens further and further at recognition first of the mage and then of his offering. Can the furrows in her brow grow any deeper? Science wonders.

She turns back to her meal, stabbing the potato with a vicious clank of cutlery on dish. "You were told wrong. I am sure I have no interest in such things. "

[liberalum]

Dorian winces, just a little, at the sound of Cassandra's fork scraping the bottom of her bowl. Meanwhile, he's all table manners, spearing what is probably lamb with his fork and slicing away a modest bite with his knife and using it then to gather brownness and-- oh, something encouragingly green. It was probably a plant.

"No?"

Freeing his hands once he's swallowed, he picks the book back up again, flipping open the cover to the little summary printed within. "'As the bastard nephew's daughter of the King, Avice has everything to prove. Although she could never compete as a lady of court, her skill with a blade is unparalleled across the realm. But everything changes when she is charged to protect the mysterious yet handsome ambassador of the enemy kingdom that she must make her choice: duty, or love?'"

He sets it down again. "Utter tripe, really, although I did find myself digging out another candle to finish it, somehow. And to think, I'll never get back those hours."