( OPEN ) | something borrowed, something blue

[indissection]

WHO: Byerly, Sidony and guests (everyone is invited)
WHAT: The best sham of a wedding Thedas has ever seen
WHEN: Now
WHERE: the Toad and Flagon
NOTES: The Best Wedding Ever ft. a kidnapping

You are hereby invited to the wedding of Byerly Rutyer and Sidony Celogera Allegra Venaras. The venue is not quiet nor is it beautiful; the gambling hall is loud and intense, with all kinds of smells and dirtiness to carry along with the strangeness of their wedding. There’s some attempt at draping, some attempt at making it look as though some kind of party is taking place here, but it certainly doesn’t look like there’s going to be a wedding at all. It’s hastily done, hastily put together, but at least it’s something, which is better than nothing. There’s about an hour until the wedding is due to start and both the bride and groom are getting ready - whatever that means to the two of them. Food is not provided. There are no drinks bought. There's a table for gifts to one side, with a little plaque with their names on. Prostitutes and gamblers wander between the aisles and chairs, laughing and making jokes with one another, completely avoiding setting the scene of a proper wedding.

Comments

[cozen]

"Here?"

Perhaps he shouldn't sound surprised, either. The skies are frequently gloomy if not outraged, the black cliffs and chains and lingering slave statuary foreboding, the history bloody, the wealthy elevated above everyone else very unsubtly, very literally, so that their shit can also very literally fall onto the people beneath them—all of that, yes, but it has its surprising nooks and pretty crannies, and it is almost certainly an easier place to be an elf.

So he irons out the surprise, easily, and settles deeper into his seat.

"Let me guess: it is because we are all so charming."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos lets out a little laugh. "Yes, yes, of course. You've caught me out entirely."

Because... he feels like his real reasoning won't be welcomed. But he thinks he wants to live in Kirkwall for the rest of his life.

[cozen]

He smiles; he decides there's no harm in lighting a cigarette and goes to searching in his pockets.

"It is why we are all here," he says, arch. "Everyone likes everyone else so terribly much."

But there's no way to extend that joke without being a bit of a downer about everyone's competing interests and personalities, and this is a wedding, so he'd rather not.

"What is it you told Byerly your profession is?"

[murderbaby]

"Of course, of course," Mhavos says, something like a laugh in his voice. His light expression changes, though, when Bastien asks his question. The wording is strange, and he can't quite pinpoint how one should react in his position. Taking offense is always safe.

Mhavos arranges his expression in the shape of someone who might have bitten into a lemon, but isn't quite yet sure. "Does that... matter?"

[cozen]

His laugh is quiet and short, more of a surprised huff than anything.

“Only for conversation,” he says. His hands are busy with a tin, papers—he fits in an offering gesture, in case Mhavos would care for one—but it only requires half of his attention. “You were a clerk or something, no? I am a printer, and a musician before that. I understand why we must be so outnumbered by soldiers and spies, under the circumstances, but it is nice to be slightly less outnumbered.”

[murderbaby]

There, back into safer territory. His expression softens. "Yes, a clerk, among other things. A scrivener as well, if you have need of it. I'm hardly against taking on other work."