faderift | OPEN - Rooks, Pawns, Bishops and Knights

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OPEN - Rooks, Pawns, Bishops and Knights

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.

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

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.

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.

"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.

Edited 2016-01-04 14:23 (UTC)

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."

Edited 2016-01-04 16:12 (UTC)

"Izzis what it's like in Circles, you think?" Pel is not complaining, relaxing in the hot spring post-massage, more relaxed than she has ever been in her life. Her face is thickly smeared with some kind of clay. "All this? You haff...spa, and learnin'. And nothing else t'do. But you can never leave."

She sips at a glass of champagne.

"If I knew shems put mud on their faces I'd've set up business long ago. Dalish come across mud alla time. We have plenty of mud. Could get rich."

Korrin's lips twitch upon hearing Pel's slurred words, but she's not about to admonish the Dalish Councilor for having her fair share of the champagne. Pel works as hard as any of them inside the Council, and outside it...well, she wonders if the woman ever gets rest. So, she richly deserves this moment.

"Hey, there's an idea; a Dalish spa. You might be onto something there. Humans are weird; might as well take advantage of it, right?" Sinking further into the hot water, she lets out a contented sigh. "If the Circles had spa day, ever day...I can almost see why some of them would be so loyal. Almost. Mind you, it wouldn't work for me. It's nice for a change of pace, but I'd be so damned bored after a while. Travel and challenge is where it's at."

It's not the champagne. It's the euphoria. She has not had more than a few sips of champagne. Her brain, unused to being so at ease, is sinking into a pit of happy inanity.

"Mmmmmmhm." She sips, waking up just a little. "Can't believe shems do this. I think half my skin was rubbed off. I should feel wretched for making these poor people scrub the calluses off my feet. I probably will, later. But just now?"

A pleased sigh.

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."

"That is what shoes are for, Pel." Adelaide murmurs from where she is lounging, one eye cracking open to peer at the much pampered elf. If any one among their number truly deserved such pampering? Adelaide would put her coin on Pel. "That will be their argument, at least."

Not that it's an entirely incorrect argument on either side; but for one day she isn't going to think about balance and making nice and extensive consideration. Honestly, not thinking at all is something she's needed to do for a fair while.

Pure relaxation and luxury are foreign concepts to Korrin as well, at least on this level. At most, she's used to stretching out at the tavern in a pleasant buzz, taking advantage of an evening's peace after a very long day. This is on an entirely different level from that, and the Vashoth woman isn't quite sure of what to make of it...or that the spa workers know what to make of her. This has to be a change from their usual human noble clientele.

She chuckles softly, taking another sip of champagne. "I know the feeling. They better get paid very well for all this, it's heavenly. And for putting up with my large self. I keep wondering if I'm going to break something here." One more reason remain soaking, as she's not moving around as much that way. "If this becomes a semi-regular thing...well, there are worse fates."

"This happen a lot with shems?" Pel mumbles. She's in a chaise parallel to Benevenuta, receiving her own massage. She's somewhat dazed, as if uncertain what is happening but definitely enjoying whatever it is.

"Vivienne is a genius. If anything'll stop us from grandstanding in front of each other, it's seeing each other naked. Or. Practically naked." Pel shed her last tunic before getting in the water, so she could keep her clothes dry. She wore nothing underneath.

Edited 2016-01-04 18:05 (UTC)

"Shoes're 'spensive. Calluses're free." She sinks deeper into the water with a bit of a moan. "And nobody can see how pretty my feet are now if I put shoes on them. Shem problems."

"Sandals, Pel. Something with delicate straps and thin soles- maybe some embossing on the leather." Branches like the markings on her face; but Adelaide isn't sure if suggesting it is some manner of offensive.

"Ohhh." Her eyes light in understanding. "Maybe beads. Something tasteful, but with just a bit of sparkle."

She's a little more awake now, so the slurring stops. Her foot goes back down in the water.

"Want me to braid your hair?"

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?"

Edited 2016-01-04 21:07 (UTC)

"Carved wood or polished stone- maybe glass if they didn't dangle too much." No cracking together. Adelaide extends her hands to the specialist- no she won't take a full body massage but her wrists to her fingertips and a manicure? That she can accept. Now and then a knot of tension has her frowning- and the girl has been wise enough to slow until the moment passes. "You would have to comb it out- I, at currant, cannot. But if you do not mind that, it would be lovely, Pel."

The damp from her soak earlier had her unwind the braid and simply pin her hair on top of her head; the fine strands and twists of it uncurling in this steam and heat- leaving what is normally long enough to brush her thighs a few inches longer still for the lack of it's proper wave.

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?"

That gets a laugh from Korrin, who's done likewise. She isn't shy or possessing a shred of modesty, as practicality is far more important. Right now every part of her is deeply grateful for that, immersed in the warmth of the hot spring. "I always thought the best way to get to know someone was in battle, but this will do as a substitute. More relaxing, too. I wonder what the Templars would have to say about it if they could see this. Can you imagine? Mages not only free and gathered together but lounging about in luxury with no one to stop them. Blasphemous."

In keeping with the spirit of spa day, Korrin leaves her usual contemptuous tone behind, more amused than anything else. Templars always deserve some ribbing, in her mind, but she can hold back the usual bite for another day.

"I'm pretty sure that Nerva woman could use a day like this. Though I can't imagine her in the hot spring without her armor and a gloomy frown."

Pel is incredibly gentle with the delicate work of natural art before her, like she is handling antique Nevarran lace. She uses some of the oil the masseurs are using, and doesn't hurry. When at last every strand is running in the same direction, she begins braiding it in sections.

"Your hair is so beautiful. I always wanted mine to be a color like this."

Ellana is hardly used to such attention and like Adelaide, she politely declines any suggestion that she needs a massage. She does, however, allow the spa workers to look over her hands, even though she doesn't know what they can do about them. She bites her nails when they get too long and they seem pretty short now. But then one takes out some sort of grit paper on a stick and starts filing her nails into a uniform shape. Another takes her other hand and starts rubbing cream into it. Her hand feels so slippery, she thinks she'll probably end up dropping everything for the rest of the day.

At Pel's observation, she glances from Pel's feet to her own. She's wearing boots as she has since her arrival, and has no desire to take them off for a pedicure.

"Then why did you let them take the calluses off?"

"Felt good. Didn't know that wuz what they're doing at firs'." She sighs, then wakes up a bit. "Who do you think thought of rubbing calluses off feet? What shems got together and decided calluses aren't pretty enough?"

Ellana doesn't wish to take off her clothes in front of the other councilors, even though she has no problem seeing them undressed. It's a personal preference of hers, and so she's seated on a cushion with her legs dangling in the hot springs, pants rolled up over her knees. She holds a glass of champagne, but she really doesn't like it. The bubbles tickle her nose. So she just holds it, pretending to drink it and every so often she covertly lowers the glass to pour a little into the hot spring. She figures it would go to waste anyway, the way this spa day is filled with excess.

"So, Korrin," she begins, searching for a topic that isn't about politics. "Have you chosen a specialization yet?"

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OPEN - Rooks, Pawns, Bishops and Knights

Spa Day for Council

benevenuta thevenet.

Adelaide LeBlanc

Korrin Ataash

Pel Ashara

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Tea, you say?

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In the evening

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And another Knight for tea...

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