closed.

[cozen]

WHO: Bastien, Athessa, Alexandrie, Darras, John, Marcoulf, Petrana, Yseult
WHAT: A small apology tour slash charm offensive.
WHEN: Vaguely Drakonis
WHERE: Val Royeaux
NOTES: OOC post.

Background: Riftwatch is in Val Royeaux to make it very clear that they support the Orlesian military and Exalted March and definitely do not condone desertion or harbor deserters. This is necessary because someone in Riftwatch (Bastien) helped someone in Orlais (Vincent Suchet) who was harboring deserters, including, nearly, the son of the Baron and Baronness Auvray. They take a lot of pride in their family's history of valiant military feats and were on the verge of being horribly embarrassed by the whole ordeal before they managed to turn it around and paint it as an insurrectionist conspiracy that tried and failed to lure their son away from his duty. Enough circumstantial connections to Riftwatch came up during Suchet's quick and dramatic trial that the rumor mill went a little wild, so now everyone is here to tame it!

Except Bastien, who's here to put his fake printer name back on and tell some solid lies to the Chancellor's office when they ask him what the deal is, to ensure there's no real non-gossip trouble, and then to have a little bit of a meltdown. 👉👉

Comments

[staysail]

He watches the degloving closely, and flicks his gaze back up to her face only once it is off, when her Starkhaven accent comes back. With a grin, he takes that compliment, and scoots over on the bench to make space for her. A proper amount of space, should she decide to take it. Married woman that she is.

"I wish you couldn't resist. But I understand. What's your husband like, madame?"

[hassaran]

"It's a near thing," is said in her own voice, and she plucks the cigarette back out of his hands before joining him on the bench. She leaves that careful space between them, but reaches across it to offer the smoke back between two extended fingers. Red rings the paper, and she touches carefully at her lips with the back of her hand, checking the vibrant color.

She puts the accent back on to answer, one eye kept on the garden entrance "He's canny in business, and his workers admire and respect him. They were all sorry to see him go when he joined to the Exalted March. But he's a fine warrior, and I'm proud he's doing his part."

[staysail]

"Sounds the very model of a man. Looks perfect, if you're worried," and before he takes the smoke back Darras gestures to his own mouth so she'll know what he's on about. When he has the cigarette in hand again, he turns it this way and that, taking in the red of her lipprint. "What's it that you do, while he's away? Besides feeling proud."

[hassaran]

She smiles her thanks at his reassurance. "He is indeed. I pray for his success, of course, and for his swift return. It is quite hard to be without him, and his efforts for the cause are so very-- inspiring. I think of him often."

[staysail]

"And," which he says very seriously, as he lifts the cigarette to take another drag, lipprint at all, "which is his favorite character in Les Chats?"

[hassaran]

She laughs, quick and surprised and real. She answers in her own voice, tone teasing. "He claims it's Jeanne des Points, but I don't believe him. I think it's actually Growl-Tigre, the pirate cat."

[staysail]

Pleased to have gotten that laugh out of her, and at its reality, Darras grins. This grin is his own, too, even under the paint. It's enough that he reaches into his frock coat and fishes out a flask. He holds it out to her as a reward, as he puts the cigarette back to his lips.

"I've got it on good authority that he loves Jeanne des Points. The dancing, madame. It's very good. You can't disagree."

[hassaran]

"I can't disagree because I hardly recall the dancing given everything else that went on around it."

Yseult accepts the flask, head shaking. "Maker, I hate that ghastly paint on you." She takes a quick sip, and then another, and hands it back. "Just as well, without it I might have dragged you into the library by now."

[staysail]

Darras casts her a mournful look.

"I'm fitting in," he says, with some hurt. "It's cultural. They're all falling for it, so it's working, which is all it has to do. Though I won't pretend it doesn't hurt me to hear you say that. When you married me, you never said you'd refuse me for wearing paint on my face. Can't go back on that now and say otherwise."

[hassaran]

"You're fitting in splendidly," she agrees without hesitation, "It's just a shame you have to be made up like a clown to do it. And now a very sad clown." She reaches over and chucks him under the chin with a bent knuckle, scarlet red lips curved briefly into a teasing pout in imitation.

"I don't recall our vows including anything about taking you bare-faced or in paint," she adds as she sits back. "Even if they had, there's the problem of it smearing indiscreetly."

[staysail]

He raises his chin with that push from her knuckle, pulls an exaggerated pout right back at her, mirroring her expression for at least a moment before he has to drop it and break into a grin.

"That bit of the vows was implied. But you'd never do anything indiscreet. Surely. Not you, I can't imagine it."

[hassaran]

"I think that's why they do it," she adds, reaching back again to rub a knuckle just where the paint stops short of his sideburn. She holds her finger up to show him the mark it leaves, "So that they can tell if any of the guests have been up to anything scandalous."

Which, like he said, she would never. "You're right, of course. But I'm surprised you can't imagine it. You're usually good at that."

[staysail]

Of course she'll be too fast, she nearly always is--and when she's not, over half the time it's because she doesn't want to be fast--even on instinct she's fast--but Darras grabs for her hand anyways. The move will smear the paint on his palm if he manages to get hold of her hand.

And in case she's curious--

"I can imagine it. I can imagine a great many thing of scandal that'd smear this paint. I was being in character, madame."

[hassaran]

"Oh, I see. Without an accent it's more difficult to tell." Compared to her swapping back and forth into someone else's voice, though she hasn't put the Starkhaven burr back on for a few minutes. And she's let him capture her hand easily enough, too, sliding fingers between his.

"How do you like being a prince?" she asks, still in her own voice.

[staysail]

"Just 'cos I'm not as skilled at this as you are doesn't mean that you get to call me out on it, y'know. Without an accent."

He gives her fingers a little squeeze before he pulls her hand closer, so he can press a kiss to the back of her hand. It leaves a little mark behind, from the paint.

"Honestly, I think I like being a pirate better'n a prince. The clothes could be worse. And the party isn't bad, for Orlais. I like the dancing."

[hassaran]

"It's remarkable how well they were able to tailor that suit in so little time," Yseult agrees, "And you managed the dancing very well. I always said you could pass for a prince if you tried."

She turns his hand in hers, rubbing the center of his palm with her thumb. "We should have seeded a doomed romance. The prince and the merchant's wife, separated by class and commitments. Our hosts would have eaten it up."

[staysail]

That makes him laugh. "And separated by face-paint? It's a good idea. Next time we've got to don disguises in the name of Riftwatch, let's remember it. We met when we were young, but it was never going to work--and now we've met again, for the first time, here at the ball..."

[hassaran]

"But still unable to be together. How tragic. It's a shame we didn't think of it sooner."

She turns his hand over, weaving their fingers back together again to stop her fidgeting. "I'm glad you're here even so."

[staysail]

Darras' smile softens a little, pleased by the sentiment.

"Glad to be here." He scrunches his fingers tight for a moment, transferring another little squeeze back to her. "Think of us a year ago and now look at us. I never would've thought."

It is, of course, partly still for Yseult, and only for Yseult. But there are few things that Darras would do that aren't for Yseult, at least when they are together. When they've been apart, he's been able to act with selfishness, thinking of himself. Separate from her. Now their lives have come together more permanently, an intersection that never would have been. Even if they were living in the cottage they wouldn't be this way. This is a third life. And, it turns out: he likes it. Half a miracle.

[hassaran]

Yseult just snorts softly and shakes her head. They got here by deciding not to think about where they were a year ago or why any longer, and she isn't about to start now.

"It feels more like a game with you here. More difficult to take seriously. I'm not complaining; it's hardly a life or death operation. You won't tell the others I said that."