OPEN - Rooks, Pawns, Bishops and Knights

[madame_de_fer]

WHO: Vivienne and OPEN
WHAT: Catchall post for Madame de Fer to get to know the players great and small in the Inquisition.
WHEN: Wintermarch, all month
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: There's a specific bit for the Council members, but the remainder is open to everyone. Anyone who's been wanting CR with Viv, feel free to assume your character got one of the vaunted invites and tag in!

For the Council
Early in Wintermarch, all members of the Council receive a gilded paper invitation. No impersonal sending crystal for this message. The contents invite all the Councilors to join Madame de Fer at the hot spring for a day of relaxation and massage. To her mind, this is no frivolous social gathering meant to impress or irritate the others. (Though if either of those become true, that is useful as well.) There needs to be a dialogue enough amongst them that they do not dither away precious time and resources having to renegotiate their relationships upon meeting. That and none of them are any use to the Inquisition if they are tired, weary, and not well taken care of.

Some of her most comfortable chairs and lounging couches have been brought to the hot spring, and tables set with with a full tea service, both sweet and savory, and a few bottles of champagne. There's even imported Antivan cheese wheels, for the eyes, not for snacking. She is determined not to be caught out letting any of the others languish behind in attending to the important business of self-care. Anyone who brings up anything of a political or divisive nature, however, will find that they are most unwelcome. Relaxation and learning more is the point, not to posture and jockey. Not today.


For the Advisors and Companions
All the advisors and previous companions of the Herald likewise receive Spa Day invitations, albeit the day after the Council. Thank the Maker Sera is not around to make a mockery of such generosity. Knowing that Cullen is most likely to be the most stubborn about leaving that musty office of his, Vivienne plans to drag him along by the ear like an errant child if he dawdles too long in arriving.


Open to All, All Month
Before everyone can scatter to the four winds on business following the start of the new year, Vivienne sets out to some business of her own. She needs to know as much as she can about anyone within the Inquisition who might be a considerable piece in the Game, whether they are aware of such or not. Invitations to join her at her balcony begin to go out to anyone of interest: mages, templars, second sons of minor nobles, people from out of the rifts. For those whose invitation falls in the mid-afternoon, it is to join her for tea. Others receive invites for drinks, well after the dinner hour, but clearly with the intent of having uninterrupted time for getting to know the other better. As much as anyone is allowed to learn more about the Iron Lady.

Comments

Spa Day for Council

[madame_de_fer]

Feel free to tag around to each other here in whatever combinations bring you fun and happiness (and cheese wheels).

benevenuta thevenet.

[ungovernable]

As much as she had enjoyed the revelries of First Day, the indulgence such as Vivienne has invited her fellow Councilors to is rather more Benevenuta's speed - it is with no small amount of relief that she discards layers of fabric and the pins from her hair, falling in crinkled curls to her waist. Down to her silken smalls, she rests stretched out to her not-impressive full length on one of the lounging sofas, her cheek resting on her folded arms as she enjoys the steam rising beside her.

Blue ink needled into the back of her hip is visible for the first time since her arrival in Skyhold - a skull etched there, entwined with rose vines. Rather a different sort of tattoo to those worn by their Dalish colleagues, but there's always been a suggestion of fey shamelessness about the smaller of the Northern mages (there are more than two - but you mightn't know it by how Benevenuta and Dorian court attention); it isn't going to be so shocking.

She looks so boneless where she lies, attended by a masseur, it's hard to say if she could do any posturing if she wished to.

Adelaide LeBlanc

[fleurdesel]

This is a luxury Adelaide hadn't entirely expected; the hotsprings are something of a haven for her when she could spare the time. Even then it was merely a long soak, not something accompanied by masseuses, lounging chairs, tea and champagne. Declining would be shockingly rude and foolish, with the excuse that Roul is minding the remainder of her students and her usual appointments have all been informed she'll be otherwise occupied for the day, Adelaide attends.

Hair coiled in a long braid wound about her head, she spends her initial stretch of time soaking in the heated water, unwinding all the tension she usually carries far better than any skilled pair of hands would be allowed. Much as she probably needs a massage having someone touch her that she does not know well or trust-

It wouldn't end well. Better to not.

She moves, then, settling on her front on a chaise to enjoy tea, company, and steam- though it does take a few "Yes I understand but no thank yous" to have the masseuses leave her be. She is content, the heat and steam doing wonders for the burn scar along her back and right shoulder.

Korrin Ataash

[gatheringstorm]

"Okay, but why cheese wheels?" Someone has to ask it, and Korrin has a thick enough skin to endure whatever sighs are sent her way. If they want the presence of a Vashoth mercenary who has clearly never had a spa day in her life, they're going to be faced with questions. Perhaps if she hadn't just come back from a trying time at Emprise du Lion, Korrin might have declined, but the past month had been horrible all around. She needed this, and she isn't going to deny it.

For her part, her body is as devoid of tattoos as the rest of her, though scars abound. Claw marks along her back, puncture marks at her shoulder, slashes along her legs or rib-cage are among the few decorating her body. Coming from a time before she learned it was better to keep her distance in combat, most are old. It seems to be a lesson she periodically needs to relearn, though, as some aren't that faded.

Korrin is content to soak in the hot springs for the time being, idly sipping champagne here and there. A massage isn't out of the question, but that would require moving and she's not there just yet. This is doing wonders for relaxation as it is, and to that she can grudgingly appreciate Vivienne's efforts.

Pel Ashara

[mythalenaste]

It's a brilliant idea of Vivienne's, so Pel feels compelled to attend. She enters wearing a few layers of shapeless tunics, with her hair in a sloppy braid, looking as lost as a fawn in bustling city streets. So this is the rumored excess and luxury of the city. She wonders how much Vivienne is paying these people, and whether they are happy working to pamper spoiled shems so they can feed their families. Pel's hands are dry and rough, her feet callused, her hair lackluster.

And so the specialists descend upon her. Very soon, she is down to a pale linen undertunic, unbleached but for many washings and dryings in the sun. Her hair is unbraided for her, the hip-length affair oiled and gently detangled while she sits with her feet in the hot spring. Rough hands are smeared with a heavy cream and covered in some manner of mitten. Her hair is braided up out of the way again, and by the time they start her massage, she is already half-asleep.

A massage, a manicure, a pedicure, and some treatment of her face and body with dark clay later, she's in the hot spring having her hair washed and her scalp massaged, with a glass of champagne in her hand. She looks at one incredibly smooth foot semi-woefully.

"Aneedza calluses," she slurs. "They proteck m'feet."

Tea, you say?

[dreadinquisitor]

When the invitation arrived Maxwell had thought, at first glance, that it was another missive from his mother and almost tossed it into the fireplace in the great hall as he passed. The fine paper, the elegant script - it wasn't until he looked twice, the looping curl of the handwriting similar but wrong, that he realized.

And then, for a moment, he wasn't certain if he'd have rather gotten one from his mother. He didn't know Vivienne personally, but Skyhold wasn't that large, and gossip and intrigue was practically the castle's favorite pastime. Still, it would be rude to refuse (and that was one lesson too well-ingrained to ignore), and he couldn't help but be curious as to why the Iron Lady was calling upon him.

Arriving punctually as instructed at her balcony, he offered a polite half-bow.

"Madame de Fer."

Yus!

[madame_de_fer]

"Ah, darling! There you are. I was so hoping you could make it."

One of Vivienne's slender hands motions to a set of chairs, from which Maxwell could take his pick. There is a tasteful spread set out for tea, with dainty cakes and cookies, alongside a silver tea service. Careful examination of the tasty offerings includes a savory sandwich she's heard is quite the favorite of Ostwick. She was only there a short while as an apprentice, but there is a firm memory of the more local mages raving over it.

"Do help yourself to whatever you like."

In the evening

[ombranera]

Zevran has been called upon in many ways over the years- by bird, by letter, by signal, by the fervent whispers of a courier- but a formal invitation? This. This is new.

That it has his name in such elegant script on well made paper- that someone has deigned to spare gilded ink on such a thing (he knows well the worth of it), that it is handwritten? Not a form printed for vague use, but personalized and intended explicitly for him is- well. No one has ever gone through the trouble before. He is a bastard, orphan, son of a whore, an elf and an assassin that happened to survive some rather peculiar circumstances. That the Iron Lady is asking after him-

Inviting him into her domain and doing so with the same level of courtesy and flash she would give a human noble? It puts him off his game enough that he doesn't respond to said invitation until the sun has set- she asked for him late in the day as it was. In an attempt to regain some of his usual understanding he doesn't take the door, Maker no. She asked after The Ombra Nera- the Antivan Assassin. With all due consideration to dramatics? He vaults up from outside the balcony when clouds offer him shade across the moon enough to do so in the darkness.

Not as much as he'd like to be leaning against the far wall, but long enough for him to perch there contentedly, lounging as if he had been there for hours. "You called?"

[madame_de_fer]

If Vivienne is surprised by the manner of Zevran's entrance (which she isn't), there's not the slightest betrayal of it with so much as a flicker of her eyelashes. Had he come in any sort of more traditional and common manner, it might have put her off. In this though, she finds herself not at all disappointed.

There are rumors of a friendship with the Hero of Ferelden, an oblique reference in Varric's Tale of the Champion. Certainly these things could be mere fabrications, but the thrill of the mystery intrigues her greatly. If even the half of them are true? She could well make a fascinating ally for the days to come.

Madame de Fer has done her homework. In fact, if one were to give careful consideration to the hors d'oeuvres available, they could well conclude that she's been planning this little rendezvous for drinks since her return. They would not be wrong. In addition to an Antivan brandy so potent it's been banned in the Free Marches, there is a spread of the hottest Antivan sausages produced in the country and a selection of their most pungent cheeses. There are also canapes topped with imported smoked fish.

She is wooing the assassin to her cause. Blatantly. And with no shame about it whatsoever.

"Ah, my dear! I am so glad you are come. Please, do join me."

And another Knight for tea...

[the_effect_she_has]

The invitation came on the fanciest paper Katniss had ever seen in her entire life. She sniffed it, then lifted both of her eyebrows. It even ... smelled like some sort of flower. Lavendar, maybe? Or tiger lily. She shook her head a little, and let the messenger know, 'Yes, Katniss Everdeen would be, ah, delighted to take tea.'

She appears at the door at the appointed time, dressed in neat forest green leathers and grey linen shirt underneath. The leathers are new, fair trade for the snofleurs she hunted in Emprise du Lion, as is the shirt. Seemed just about right for the lady they called Madame de Fer. Dark hair was pinned and braided in the best style Mia had taught her, framing her face. Grey eyes narrowed as she slipped through the door after rapping lightly.

"Hello? Madame Vivienne?"

[madame_de_fer]

There is something about this girl. Something that Vivienne cannot quite put her finger on... yet. Thus far, all Madame de Fer has done is quietly observe Katniss as she goes about Skyhold. She has listened to gossip as it has come to her. Nothing too intense or invasive to the young lady's privacy. If she intend to pry, it will ever be in direct conversation like a civilized person.

Still, there is something. Certainly she's tough, but there is this hint of softness beneath that's come across. Vivienne approves of this, seeing shades of herself in this girl. Thus, she's invited her, more to satisfy personal curiosity than actually playing at the game. At least, partially. That she's come in her nicest clothes, simple though they are, yet thank the Maker, tasteful and practical, is certainly a plus.

"Of course, darling! Do come in! I am so pleased you could come. I do hope I'm not keeping you from anything." Gracious, surprisingly warm, and even smiling. The Iron Lady isn't all ice all the time.

Afternoon Tea

[el_tybs]

It was with obvious surprise when Sam received an invitation. It was strange enough to receive just a regular letter, but this. From the delicately picked colors, the swirl of handwriting, to the scented paper, it was all strange and very new. More so when he reads who it was from. Madame de Fer and... tea?

Sam's not quite sure what she would want with him, but regardless, Sam shows up before the appointed time, not wanting to be late, and simply waits by the door that led to her balcony. There's nothing he can do about his clothes, layered, simple, and practical - clean - reflecting the amount of work he does around Skyhold and his common roots.

When the time for their meeting comes he knocks lightly on the wood with the back of his hand, peeking his head in just a bit. "You called for me, Madame de Fer?"

[madame_de_fer]

For all that Vivienne is a fashion maven, she actually doesn't mind the clothing selections of others. Provided, of course that they don't clash, are acceptably clean and tidy, and containing no plaidweave. Naturally the Iron Lady looks him over, but does not judge for the simplicity of his selections, they are well suited. She appreciates that Sam has come, as she's heard from others around Skyhold that he is remarkably busy. Being productive is a practical skill of which she heartily approves, even if manual labor is quite outside of her skills.

From her favorite perch on the balcony, she waves to him, beckoning him over from the doorway with an inviting smile. "Indeed, darling. Please do join me. I've been wishing to speak with you for some time."

In truth, she's making a professional effort to acquaint herself with every mage present in the Inquisition. Not quite a census, but certainly close enough, with a more personal touch.

Tea time

[arlathvhen]

Beleth stared at the invitation for several minutes after getting it. She flipped it around, over and over, inspecting it for any sign of forgery. But she's pretty sure that she hasn't pissed off anyone who's this good at forgery, if that is what it is. She's tempted, after that, to ignore it. To stuff it in a side drawer and pretend she never saw it and shrug and look stupid if anyone ever questions it.

However, as terrifying as Vivienne is to face, Beleth imagines her to be even more terrifying to cross. Ignoring an explicit invitation probably counts as crossing her. So, Beleth shows up, exactly five minutes early, in her best dress (though she's well aware it probably cost as much as Vivienne's makeup alone).

Upon seeing Vivienne, she'll duck her head--despite everything, that's as much of a bow as she's planning on giving anyone not of the People any time soon. "Madame Vivienne. It's an honor." She murmured, eyes low. She tried to remember what it was that she's heard about the woman. The most basic facts were easy enough to obtain--the Empress' personal enchanter, last leader of the loyal mages, and someone that, if allowed, would snap the circles into place so fast heads would spin.

Maybe this was about her little escapade with the Templar meeting. Creators forbid.

[madame_de_fer]

It is safe to say that Madame de Fer has a good idea the effect her invitations have had on various people. Fear, trepidation, a healthy dose of eye rolling. While she's not yet certain which has been stirred for this particular guest, there's some satisfaction in knowing that she has come regardless. What pleases her even more? This one is exceptionally polite and manners truly are something one can ill-afford to be without.

This once, Vivienne rises to her feet in greeting. Certainly it helps to assert her authority in her domain, but it's also reciprocal politeness to one being so pleasant. Not to mention it should help in her intention to pry slightly and learn more about this elf that she's quite certain is a close friend of Pel's. Trade of respect, then trade of information. If everything goes as she intends. (It invariably does.)

"So good of you to join me, my dear. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

That alone should tip Beleth off that Vivienne knows something of her. Of course, she holds opinions about elves, but those are usually kept tightly under wraps and primarily involve her disapproval of apostates in general and the Dalish tendency to eject their spare mages to fend for themselves. For now though, all that concerns her is learning more of what this woman's place is within the Inquisition. Her ears are a non-issue currently.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

On the balcony

[onlyhymns]

Cade went through all the formalities to present himself before the Grand Enchanter, even going so far as to wear his ceremonial Templar armor. Once announced-- the Knight-Lieutenant Cade Harimann, of the Kirkwall Order-- he bowed low to Vivienne, extending all deference to her.

[madame_de_fer]

Immediately, Vivienne decides she quite likes this young man and will continue to do so until there is cause to think otherwise. He is polite, deferential, and charmingly enough has come in his best armor, which her sharp eyes note has been admirably polished for the occasion.

She's apprised herself of the members of the Inquisition who were once Templars, or still are, as she is still loyal to Thedas first. Well, second, her loyalties to herself are first, but one can hardly be held accountable for that. Still, it is no secret she is as pro-Templar as she is pro-Circle. Especially when Templars remember their duty. This one seems to in spades.

She rises to her feet, a concession of manners, and motions to her plush seats. "Knight-Lieutenant, do come in and make yourself comfortable, my dear."

[perseverances]

First things first, Cullen would like to point out that his office isn't musty. Secondly, the cause of an invitation from the Lady Vivienne is something that nearly scares Cullen as much as open battle does; it's a different sort of battle, one he is definitely ill-equipped for.

Never the less, Cullen finds himself there promptly when requested, because, from what he has learned, you just don't tell Madame de Fer 'no'. He has much to do in regards to the Inquisition, and taking a day to paper oneself is unfortunately, not on his list of things to do.

"Lady Vivienne, I fear your invitation will go to waste," he says after he's greeted her. "Surely it should go to someone who would enjoy it more."

[madame_de_fer]

"Nonsense, darling. Once the attendants are done with you, you'll understand." The man works hard. Too hard. And if someone does not force him to take a smidgen of time off to rest, he will work himself into an early grave. That is a grave risk the Inquisition can ill-afford. Which is precisely what Vivienne tells him, at length. She's not taking no for an answer.

With a coy smile, she motions to the workers. "Now that we're agreed that taking the time for a little self-care is vital to the workings of the Inquisition, I believe they're ready to begin." Not that Cullen's had the chance to agree, but she's not exactly giving him the option to disagree. "You'll need to disrobe, though I believe some of the ladies were hoping they could assist with that."

Vivienne might be taken, but she's not dead. Cullen is more than easy on the eyes.

[aestimo]

She hasn't expected to receive an invitation from the famed Madame de Fer; Emmeline had heard of her involvement with the Inquisition in hushed whispers one night while she was in the Tavern eavesdropping. Many of those that have volunteered for the cause have spoken of the great Iron Lady and of her perch on the balcony of Skyhold's main building, watching down upon everyone with her gaze of stone. Few times she's seen her, Emmie's been struck with awe. She doesn't scare her, of course, Vivienne reminding her much of her mother and her ways, but it was like she was almost envious of her.

Cleaned up and in the most presentable clothing she owned - which was nothing as nice as the finery she used to own, but you make the best of what you have - she ascended the staircase to make her way into Vivienne's domain.

"Madame Vivienne." Emmeline is anything if proper, remembering carefully practiced manners her mother taught her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

[madame_de_fer]

This one has been on Vivienne's mind a fair bit since learning the youngest Courtenay had turned up within the Inquisition ranks. Madame de Fer had given her family no small amount of business over the years. Last she was in Val Royeaux, she'd heard that the younger daughter had vanished in the night. They were being curiously quiet about that, however, which screamed that her departure was by choice rather than kidnapping.

Not that Vivienne intended to give up her guest's whereabouts to her parents. At least, not in the immediate moment. She's too aware that the Inquisition needs all the help it can get and holding that information for herself seemed the smarter move in the Game. With any luck, however, she can broker some sort of truce between family and child, potentially secure a solid source of trade for the Inquisition, and have some long-lasting gratitude to hold onto. Useful every which way.

"Ah, my dear, I'm so pleased you could come. I do hope I'm not keeping you from anything too pressing."

drinks.

[apostasia]

No one looks at Martel and thinks there's a man who will accept an invitation to afternoon tea.

--granted, he well might do, but it is a fair assessment to say that there's little about the way he comports himself to suggest as much. So if he is surprised to receive an invitation (not substantially, though neither had he expected one), he is certainly not startled to find it does not fall during the civilized hour of tea service. If it's possible to get to know either of them (debatable), it's unlikely that that's going to happen over china cups.

While he considers declining - he knows something dangerous when he sees it, and he has no desire to be so closely examined by someone who looks capable of picking him apart - he does not. It'll draw more attention he doesn't wish to decline her invitation than it will to accept it, even if the latter feels like the more immediate threat; if he's careful and sensible, an acquaintance with Madame de Fer could stand him in good stead, and there's no analysis of his spurning her overture while courting LeBlanc's friendship that ends well. He'd sought her out in the first place for his proposal, he can't afford to be fickle just because seeking her attention got it.

"My lady," he greets her, mildly, when he arrives, very slightly damp and smelling faintly of the Orlesian soap that he'd promised Adelaide he'd move the earth for her if she shared. (Her duelist training with him had finished shortly before this - he'd no desire to present himself to anyone, least of all Vivienne, still rumpled and smelling of sweat.)

:D

[madame_de_fer]

Vivienne approves of someone who arrives promptly and has the good manners to come fresh and tidy. The same cannot be said for all of the guests she's seen recently. That and there is just something about Martel that genuinely holds the Iron Lady's interest.

"Ah, my dear, it is so good of you to come. Do come and make yourself comfortable."

The seats are plush and open and she's gone to quite a lot of trouble to provide a pleasant evening of drinks. In fact, looking at her table, there is a set of three courses. The first is a sparkling wine blended with a black current wine as an apéritif. Next is a Nevarran red coupled with herbed nuts, fresh and dried fruits, saucisson, and cheeses from around Thedas. The digestif is a brilliant Antivan brandy. (Not the one she provided Zevran, alas that is entirely consumed.)

Spa.

[colecomfort]

Cole didn't an invitation of his own. He didn't mind. Even if he were capable of appreciating the sorts of things that happened in a spa, it wouldn't be right for other people to be pampering and fawning over him. That isn't how it works.

He slips in sometime in the middle of the day, easily blending in with the staff even despite his mismatched attire. One of the attendants in particular has aching feet, and so he sends her to rest and takes her place: making tea, lighting incense, seeing to the cheese wheels.

For Vivienne's part, she will first see him as he's removing the cheese from her eyes, to be placed in a small, decorative bowl.

I am so so sorry about her. She's awful to Cole...

[madame_de_fer]

To be honest, Vivienne expects something of some nature to disrupt Spa Day. Maker knows keeping the peace for the duration will be a test akin to the trials of Andraste herself. The one thing she absolutely did not consider as a possibility was that she would find Cole as her spa attendant when her cheese wheels treatment was complete.

She is not pleased.

Not for the first time, she quite wonders why the late-Herald's pet demon is still permitted to stay. He is a demon and ought to be excised from the Inquisition before he can bring more of his kind to plague them. There are impressionable young apprentices here, still children. Children who have been traumatized already by an Abomination in their midst and she won't have them terrorized further. Neither Cullen, nor Cassandra, have seen fit to remove him and it boggles the mind why.

But even more than all this, she dislikes him for his maddening knack of rooting about in one's thoughts and expressing things that ought never see the light of day. She does not want him sharing his ruminations on her fears of being rendered insignificant. Nor does she want him touching on what is most present and immediate in her thoughts these days: Bastien is succumbing to age and she cannot bear the thought of life without him. Her love for him runs deeply, more than anyone could possibly guess, and she'll do practically anything to keep him with her.

"I'll thank you not to come any closer, demon. Whyever are you here?" Sera's obnoxious snorting laughter would almost be an improvement.

Balcony

[kallian_endris]

At first, the small elf just hesitates near the stairs, hovering in the shadows, her posture like that of any servant. But she eventually takes a few steps forward, drawn by her curiosity.

"Excusez-moi, madame?" The pronunciation is perfect Orlesian, though the lilt disappears as she continues. "Forgive me for interrupting. I don't mean to disturb you..."

She looks up. She's a pretty little thing, simply dressed but clean, guarded, nervous, all that, yes, but those blue eyes are bright with intelligence. She sees more than she says. But an awed reverence settles over her features as she gets her first good look at the imperious figure that is Vivienne.

"I heard you wished to meet everyone in Skyhold. I just work in the healing tents, but I had never heard of a court enchanter before. I'm sure my mother would have been amazed at an opportunity like this."

[madame_de_fer]

Unlike most Orlesians, Vivienne doesn't possess the same haughty disdain for elves that others display. Typically her disdain is reserved for the stupid, ignorant, and ill-mannered. Those people are legion. Which is not to say that she and Bastien have not employed their fair share of elven servants, only that those from within the Circle are accorded a sense of respect which they might not find elsewhere.

She's delightfully pleased, however, with how polite this particular elf is, and that she was mannered enough to come as tidy as possible. It's an effort and appreciated.

"Of course, my dear, do come make yourself comfortable. And tell me more of your mother. I'm quite interested in knowing more of our people here."

Drinks

[easternseaqueen]

Isabela received all manner of correspondence. Word from her ships. Letters from old contacts scattered about the continent. Business propositions. Threats. The odd drunken love letter here and there. But there was odd and there was suspicious.

And fancy invitations in gold ink addressed to Admiral Isabela were decidedly suspicious.

It couldn't be a more obvious trap if it had a giant blinking magical sign in the shape of a talking squid saying "IT'S A TRAP!"

...naturally, Isabela was going to go anyway.

Of course, being addressed to Admiral Isabela, she supposed she had to look the part. Long coat. Supple gloves. Freshly-polished jewelry. Pants, believe it or not, with her finest boots. And the most fabulous hat she owned.

Upon arriving, there was no hesitation. Isabela strode right on in like she owned the place.
"So, you're the famous Vivienne. Not a bad set-up you've got here."

[madame_de_fer]

This is one visit that Vivienne's been quite looking forward to. Nothing whets the imagination as seeing the real life version of someone you've read of in a book. Especially a book that was as wildly popular as Tale of the Champion was in the Imperial Court for a while. Reasonably Vivienne knows that the reality is far often different from the narrative, but there's still an opportunity to share that she'd met the infamous Admiral when next she was in Val Royeaux.

"And you are the infamous Admiral and friend to the Champion of Kirkwall. I'm so delighted you could come, darling. Do make yourself comfortable." Like Isabella hadn't more or less already.

She gestures to the table set out with a range of drinks so the Rivani can choose what she likes best. The best of Orlesian whites, Ferelden mead fresh from the Hinterlands, Antivan brandy, Nevarran reds, and even an icewine from the Anderfels. "Where would you care to start?"

[salvatore_underfoot]

There is no reason at all why he should be receiving an invitation to … tea, is it? With the Iron Lady. He’s not on the council. He hasn’t done anything notable. He’s no one of any importance. But that’s his name on the very fine paper.

So he cleans up and puts on the best clothes he owns and heads up to meet with the lady, if only to bow awkwardly and say, “Lady. Um, I think I received an invitation by mistake.”

[madame_de_fer]

Of course there's a reason he received an invitation. There's not much that goes on in Skyhold that Vivienne doesn't hear about sooner or later. Either from people directly gossiping, or from voices carrying up from the Great Hall into her balcony. You'd be amazed how amplified a "hushed whisper" can grow with so much space to expand into. Regardless of how she found out, she knows he's a mage they rescued. Therefore, he is now of great importance to her, as she takes her self-appointed responsibilities to the well-being of mages most seriously.

"There's no mistake, my dear, I assure you. Please do have a seat, I've been so looking forward to meeting you."

She waves a hand at her tea service where there's a tasty spread of sweet and savory munchies set out. It's an invitation for him to help himself.

spa day

[theproperglove]

Truth be told, Josephine still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the so-called 'Iron Lady'. Not that it matters overly much, of course, because what's important is that Madame de Fer is a powerful woman, and having such a person align themselves directly and intimately with the Inquisition can only be an advantage to the cause. Naturally, Josephine responds to Vivienne's invitation with a whole-hearted yes, neatly addressed to the woman on the proper stationery.

Now, the day has come, and Josephine makes her way down to the hot springs with no small amount of trepidation. It's not that she's overly intimidated by Vivienne; she respects her, a formidable player of the Game, as she is, but Josephine is confident as ever in her own talents. No, Josephine's anxiety is mostly wrapped up in another, very simply fact: it has been a long time since she has allowed herself the time to relax. Her work with the Inquisition simply hadn't allowed it, or, more accurately, she had not allowed it of herself. But of course, she is not here with the sole goal of relaxation: she would not mind getting to know the other woman better.

She walks towards Vivienne with deliberate steps, despite knowing it is unlikely she could sneak up on the mage if she tried. "I must thank you again for your most gracious invite, I--" Josephine's train of thought is interrupted as she casts her gaze around the room, her attention drawn to the cheese wheels. "Ah! I have heard of these." She takes a step towards the bowl. "I did not think I would see these cheeses again, in this country." But they are not for snacking, she reminds herself; Antivan cheese had taken on all-new therapeutic qualities since she had last been in her homeland.

"Forgive me," she continues, seemingly realising that she has become distracted. "What I meant to say was: it was most kind of you to organize this day for us. Thank you."

[madame_de_fer]

A faint smile twitches on Vivienne's lips. She recognizes the signs of someone whose mind is working so fast that they never take a break. Precisely the reason she arranged this little treat for the leadership of the Inquisition. They all give everything they have to the work, but in so doing, risk removing themselves as an effective contributor from sheer exhaustion. Madame de Fer is not willing to risk the well-being of any such vital leaders when she can arrange otherwise.

"Of course, my dear! I'm so pleased you could make the time to come. I know how desperately hard you've been working." She beckons to a spa attendant to come closer and make herself available for whatever treatment Lady Montilyet desired.

A moment later she nods to a serving girl hovering nearby who returns with a tray of nibbles, sweet and savory petit-fours from Orlais, a selection of candied fruits from Nevarra, and then a respectable offering of saucisson and pungent cheese from Antiva. Those particular cheeses are for eating. "Help yourself to whatever you like, darling. It's so important that we ensure that our ambassador keeps up her strength."

Everyone knows you work well into the night. The bill to the local chandler alone must be staggering.