OPEN: this will be a better year

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

Comments

Dance!

[perseverances]

While one might think that he ought to know how to dance, Cullen will say completely different. The Commander will confess he has two left feet, a thing he felt that didn't need too much repairing in his life. He might be one to protest, but it is a party, after all, and he would feel horrible to say no.

"If you insist. I must confess I'm not much of a dancer."

Dance!?

[fleurdesel]

"And you shall never improve if you do not make a token attempt now and then." She offers him her hand, grinning. "I promise I will do my best to make you look good."

Grace is something she had been trained in early on, and while she is no grand noble she can follow the music well enough and keep up with most. Leading from following is something she'd had to do many a time in the Spire, here it shall be no different.

[perseverances]

He takes her hand, allowing himself to be pulled out into open floor with her. "I'm just... not one to dance. Always more important things."

Thankfully his words don't hold too much merit. Cullen can keep a tune, therefore he has some musicality and isn't trampling Adelaide's poor toes. He's also a quick learner, so it's not too soon that she's not leading. Granted, there are still a few bumbles, but nothing that would lead to international scandals.

[fleurdesel]

"Tonight there is nothing more important." Celebrating a new year, for one night being something other than the Commander, than the Councilor- simply being people. The flames quite different from the last sort roiling about when they were in the snow, Adelaide puts that incident from her mind. This is different. This is dancing around a fire, in the cold, with some measure of grace. The bumbles are met with snorts of laughter and "No the other left-"

But for a song? All's well. "I think you sell yourself short, Commander."

[perseverances]

Thankfully Cullen meets her laughter with his own. He's grateful that she's pulled him away to dance; talking with stuffy nobles and politicians were never his thing. Give him a sword and a shield and a battle and he would be well suited for it.

"You give me far too much credit then."

[fleurdesel]

"I give only the credit you are due, Cullen. LeBlancs do not dispense flattery nor do we praise anyone unduly." Praise is offered in precise amounts to the exacting measure of what was done to have earned it. As such, he's earned a little praise, a little amusement. "Give yourself a little more, yes?"

[perseverances]

"I will venture to learn to do so." And he truly means it. He's desperately trying to be someone he wants to be, not the man that he was so many years ago, and while the attempts he is making are in the right direction, there are still pieces of him that need to be worked on.

"Thank you for the dance."

[fleurdesel]

"You are welcome, Commander. Try to scowl less- the nobles are more likely to offer their support and finances if they think you find their company pleasing." One of the first rules of The Game, that. Passing along what she knows only feels appropriate.