and there's a glass on the table, they say it's gonna ease all my pain

[lettersfromhome]

WHO: Mia Rutherford and OPEN
WHAT: She spends a lot of time taking care of everyone else. She needs a drink or five to unwind before getting back to it.
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Herald's Rest
NOTES: Alcohol? Bad decisions?

She's not proud of herself for this. But there are breaking points, and she's nearing one, and it's better to deal with them pre-emptively than not, and have a fuss be made later. There are things that are completely out of her control, Maker knows, and she needs to make her peace with them.

Wine helps. So does the ambiance of the tavern, even if she sits alone. There's a homesickness that claws at her, though she refuses to let it take root too deeply. There's work to be done here, after all--

No. No work tonight. Just...relax. Listen to the music and the noise and the banter and try to let it go.

Easier said than done, but she'll muddle through it. Stubbornness is a Rutherford family trait, apparently.

Comments

[ombranera]

"I was commissioned by Lord Howe and Loghain to kill the remaining Grey Wardens in Fereldan and as she was a member of their traveling party, her as well. Alas, I did not manage to do so- but I earned my freedom by assisting them." It had made for an interesting conversation, staring up from the mud to them.

[lettersfromhome]

It made for an interesting conversation now, Mia's eyes growing quietly rounder. "Teyrn Loghain...hired you to kill the Hero of Ferelden?" She sounded as though she didn't quite know whether to believe it or not. And yet Zevran spoke of it so causally. The man was likely a skilled liar, but...

"And they simply let you accompany them as one of their companions after that? Quite the vote of compassion."

[ombranera]

"Well he is Warden Logain now; but yes." He shrugs. It is what it is. "At the behest of Howe to better secure his position or something to that extent. Civil wars are such complicated messes. Jonas chose to make use of me rather than kill me or leave me for the Crows to kill themselves. I cannot say that I am disappointed."

[lettersfromhome]

"No, I don't suppose you would be. It all turned out very well for you, considering."

But something else there had caught her attention. 'Crows', he said. Suddenly she sat a little straighter, though not out of fear so much as sudden realization striking down hard. "Maker's breath. You're one of them. The Antivan Crows."

Though apparently no longer, and happy to work with the Inquisition.

With a deep breath, Mia took another, deeper drink of her brandy.

[ombranera]

"Was a Crow, a decade ago. Now I am my own elf, as it were." He smiled, all warmth and exuberant innocence. "I helped them in their quest to save Fereldan and made my way back to Antiva to earn my place. I have been traveling Thedas in the interim but often I would write my marvelous, sensible lady."

[lettersfromhome]

"I didn't realize that was a vocation one could retire from, at least not from the stories one hears."

It felt too fantastic not to be true, but there was something too romantic about the tale for her to fully trust. That skepticism and caution was slow to leave, particularly in the mood she was in, but she was at least listening. With interest, even.

"Though that would be a rather large step towards respectability. I suspect she's pleased with that, at least?"

[ombranera]

"Well- I am no longer a Crow, but I am still an assassin. I simply choose my targets and contracts on my own rather than at their behest. Of Course the Crows wish me dead but that is another story entirely." Shrugging, he returns to his brandy with a light sip, some of the earlier joy dimming a bit. "She was, while she yet remained- though she never tired of attempting to corral me to a nobler cause. Here I am now putting my skills to the Inquisition's use. I wonder sometimes if that would not have been enough."

[lettersfromhome]

Was. Ah. The somewhat diminished spirit is telling enough, even without that careful selection of words. Mia's mouth opens a moment and then closes, expression drawn. For a moment she says nothing at all, uncertain what can be said.

Then her lips twist together. "Well. Should you fall out of line while you remain in service here, you can trust you'll have a swift reminder. I'll see to that." One eyebrow crooked higher, and another drink of brandy was had.

[ombranera]

"And I shall be grateful for your thoughtful minding, Bella." It is easier to trickle back to the flirting with such a lovely expression of arch sarcasm turned upon him- Zevran grins and leans an elbow onto the bar, smirking at Mia. "Tell me- are you wed?"

[lettersfromhome]

Well, the smarmy looks are a vast improvement to that threat of melancholy. Imagine that. He'd found a reason for her endure. Clever boy, after all.

There's a short scoffing noise at the query. "I am not. Certainly that must diminish your notion of a challenge," she counters dryly.

[ombranera]

"Not in the slightest. It simply means you have exacting standards." And those are more often than not a greater challenge than a husband.

[lettersfromhome]

"Is that what it means? And I had imagined it was lack of desire for a husband or unsuitability that rendered me a spinster." Her tongue clucks faintly. But it's clear she's less annoyed than amused with this line of questioning.

[ombranera]

"I have yet to find anything unsuitable in you, bella. Whoever says such things is either blind or mistaken." He lifts her glass to her in a lazy salute.

[lettersfromhome]

"Flatterer."

Mia scoffs lightly. "I know my vices as well as I know my virtues, and I'd be ill-suited to married life. Romantic affairs in general, if we're being completely frank here. Which we may as well be," she adds, with a glance at her brandy. "Damn waste, if not."

[ombranera]

"Affairs of passion, then? If not affairs of romance. Surely a woman such as yourself has found herself no lack of admirers and suitors." Common, yes, but kind. Striking. Stern. Compassionate. Things one did not often find in free women- let alone those quite so well settled in their own skin.

[lettersfromhome]

A derisive noise arose from her, the brandy swirling in her glass. "My younger sister was always the one to receive the attention from the local men. And I was quite happy to let her have it, honestly. She blossoms under their praise and devotion as I never would."

She'd have liked Zevran, almost certainly. Rosalie was always prone to romanticizing the world around them, to an almost worrying degree. Mia can only imagine what she'd make of the dashing Antivan assassin, admittedly not hard on the eyes or unskilled at banter.

For all that those things were worth.

[ombranera]

"Affairs of intellect, then." There must be an angle she's of a mind to indulge. Fereldans did not often put much weight in academia as there are more pressing matters, not dying, rebuilding from the blight, bringing their country into it's own honorable power. A hardy, principled people indeed.

[lettersfromhome]

"...yes. As a matter of fact."

Alright, clever of him. But she's resolved not to be too terribly impressed by him. Still, the corner of her mouth quirks upwards. "We weren't terribly wealthy, our family. But my mother was well-read. Sometimes when the traders came through she'd barter for a book or two."

Her eyes drift to her glass, somewhat wistful for a moment. "The chess board was my father's idea. He was a terrible tactician, but a gracious loser. Of course, Cullen and Branson soon wanted to play against me as well. Young as they were, they were perhaps not so very gracious."

[ombranera]

"Ah, that. Nobles in Antiva play something similar, although with fewer pieces. The particularly wealthy would have their gardens fashioned in the shape and pattern of the board and order their servants about in order to play." Three hours in the sun while the Don waffled over his next move during a long lunch.

A truer test of patience and stamina he could never consider.

"So from that, I do know some of the rules; though you may have to explain the extra pieces and their movements to me."

[lettersfromhome]

"Trust the nobility to make such excess even of a chess board. As though marble and gold-gilt pieces were not enough. Did you also have to duel whosoever's space you attempted to take?"

Her lips purse faintly as she regards Zevran then, still...no, not cautious. That's not the right word. But she doesn't trust his motives, either. If he still thinks to win her over, he has another thing coming.

"I could, were you so inclined."

But chess is harmless enough.

[ombranera]

"To the death, on occasion." His smile is wide and bright enough for it to be seen as false. A duel, yes, but to the death? Not even nobles were quite that excessive. But the option to learn chess, to spend more time in her company? Appeals to him.

Conversation is how he wins those over that are not lured in by his eyes or his voice. It is a nice change of pace to have to work for someone's regard rather than have it handed over so easily for his name or his body.

"I am so inclined, though I do not know where we might find a board at this time of night."

[lettersfromhome]

"As it so happens, I own one."

One hand props beneath her chin as she stares him down, considering. She's been drinking, likely to not be as on her game as she generally is. So he ought to stand a sporting chance. "It won't take long to fetch it. Provided your attention doesn't stray elsewhere in the meanwhile. Normally I wouldn't blame you, but it is quite heavy."

[ombranera]

"Do you now?" Well what a surprise- actually. It is not much of one at all considering what he's heard of Cullen's habit. A hobby shared is terribly common among siblings. Though he is willing to put coin on her being the better player.

Women tend to be more patient.

"I shall wait here for you with bated breath."

[lettersfromhome]

"Certainly."

She doesn't know if she expects that to be the case or not, and the long look she gives him once she's risen from her chair says as much. But if his attention strays then she's lost nothing except an odd bit of company. Right?

Her steps aren't slow, just the same. She doesn't rush herself, but she moves quickly back to her quarters, finding the board with little trouble amidst her scant belongings, and briskly making her way back to the tavern, her skirts flaring around her boots.

She's not sure what to expect when she returns, honestly.

[ombranera]

A table prepped and waiting for both her and the board, a bottle of wine, and a small platter of cheeses and dried sausage. Comfortable finger food that he could make into a game of seduction but honestly, earnestly, only asked after as he was hungry. He brightens when she arrives, waving her over.

"Ah, a fine board it is indeed. Was it a gift?"