faderift | [ OPEN ] Now I need to grease a palm

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[ OPEN ] Now I need to grease a palm

WHO: Adelaide LeBlanc & You
WHAT: Letters & a Loot Crate
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Political Pandering

[ Courtyard ]

The letters she'd expected more or less. Those from her family she certainly expected. The note from Baron Jean Bonnot less so- but she might as well see if there was anything particularly terrible that was worth mocking in the latest note. When she was asked to sign for something Adelaide grew concerned, but did so. And found herself in the possession of an unwieldy crate stamped with her family crest- at least the courier was kind enough to leave her a crow bar before shuffling off for a hot meal and a quick rest. Stacks of letters in her hands she hasn't even gotten around to reading but this? Needs investigation. She can be found attempting to pry the lid off the crate and failing due to a lack of proper leverage. Assistance would be lovely.

Once open the contents of the Crate are as follows:

A small case of horn balm
Assorted carvings of Halla
Assorted carvings of griffons
An hourglass with heavy templar/chantry iconography
A set of ornate pens
A bagged pipe in Plaidwave
An assortment of small bottles of Orlesian Wine
Contracts for litters of Mabari from the Lowell family
Assorted small fine cheeses

~~A box of assorted chocolates~~

Assorted stationary & inks
Assorted oils for leathers & Polish for armor
A tome on Magical Theory
A few small bags of coffee beans
Maps for the Inquisition & Trade Agreements with the branches of the LeBlanc family
Rifter Care Packages containing:
- Tins of biscuits
- Packets of bagged tea
- A written pamphlet 'Welcome to Thedas- a primer' a basic rundown of races, countries, the chantry, some loose and very simplified notations on mages & templars; all biased heavily by Orlesian sentiment.
- Salve for the aching hand
- Woolen knit socks
A smaller package wrapped separately for Adelaide alone.

Adelaide will spend the remainder of the afternoon distributing the tokens of support from the branches of her family to their intended recipients, Dalish, Vashoth, Qunari, Templar, Mage, Scholar, Rifter, etc. Afterward she will take the case for herself and get a much needed drink to read her letters.

[ Tavern. ]

Once everything is distributed to her satisfaction or at least to the best of her ability, Adelaide spends a well earned evening in the tavern, glass of wine at her elbow, looking over a series of letters from her family and from the Baron, catching up on news of the world beyond Skyhold, why she received a crate of what was effectively sanctioned bribery, and trying to decide if opening that last little case is worth the trouble.

[ ooc: Loot for the loot god- swing by and grab swag. ]

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Christine is rather curious to see what Adelaide received, and is happy to help her sort through it all. All it takes is a smile and a look before she is allowed to claim the box of chocolates, which she hides away in her tent, quick as a flash. But then she returns to continue assisting her friend. Some items get a comment here and there until she unrolls the contract and looks it over.

"Mabari? Bah, how Ferelden. They had better stay near the stables, or the whole place shall smell of wet dog."

"It is an agreement for the latest litter, should the Inquisition have need of them. Considering what Juliette has written me about the bloodline that is not an inconsiderable show of support." Juliett is terribly proud of those dogs- almost as much as she is of her children. "Don't eat all of those at once, Christine. You will get terribly sick."

"I suppose since they are war dogs, they can be of use. But I'm imagining them jumping on people, wanting food, like that one that belongs to the man in the brown coat."

She rolls the contract back up and sets it aside, taking out a carving of a griffon and examining it.

"I will pace myself. I might even be inclined to share them, if people are nice to me."

"Apparently when they are properly trained? That is not so great a concern. So clearly this man in the grey coat is a fool that cannot mind his own hound." Which is a particularly damning failing on the part of a Fereldan. Adelaide peers at the set of pens- thinks back to who she wrote about and snorts a soft laugh. "Remind me to find Varric. I am certain these are for him."

She sets them aside. "Perhaps if Sam asks sweetly you might share with him? I do not know if he's ever had chocolate."

Watching her struggle with the box for a time just seemed kind of mean. Like watching a kitten in a tree. He recognizes her from glimpses around the keep, but there's been no formal introduction as of yet.

No time like the present.

"Figured you'd have some easier way of getting it open. Magic or something," Bull mentions as he steps away from the door of the tavern, moving towards the woman now struggling with her box full of goodies.

Not that he has his eye on anything on particular, himself.

"This builds character." She mutters with one last hard (futile) shove before stepping away and glowering at the crate as though that would force it open. Then, of course, the voice clicks and-

Well it has been some time. Perhaps he's forgotten watching her take a fist to the face and having a very quiet panic attack.

"Apparently mine requires a great deal of remodeling." What did they seal this with, grout?

"Looked like you could use a hand. I happen to have two free."

A quiet smirk tugs at the Qunari's mouth as he steps up, gesturing to the box. "But, if you're that set on getting your character building in, don't want to step on any toes."

Or get set on fire. Six of one, half dozen of the other.

"I would enjoy their use, yes" Much as her character may need building? This is exhausting and whatever was sent may be time sensitive. Of course she didn't consider how her request for aid sounded and-

She truly needs to learn to not slip into accidental entendres. "Meaning I would appreciate your assistance."

Excellent cover.

Upon spotting that crate, Korrin naturally has to offer her assistance. She's a little curious, so she might as well be productive at the same time. Peering at the riches within, the Vashoth mage raises her eyebrows and whistles softly. The selected items are the sorts of luxuries she'd expect to have found in Maevaris' opulent tent.

"...wow. Now this is a care package to shame all care packages. No maraas-lok, but honestly some of--is that horn balm?"

"My family is being generous and attempting to curry favor." And if what Korrin says is anything to go by? They are succeeding. Adelaide reaches in and pulls out a jar. "I believe so? I wrote of you when I informed my mother I was yet alive."

She's never seen the stuff before but if it is valuable to Korrin? It is hers. She offers it over without a second thought.

"I bet."

It's more a tease than a flirtation, just toeing the line between insinuation and good-natured ribbing, but there's still a box to open. One brief crack of his knuckles later and Bull's taking to a knee -- his good one -- reaching to pry his fingers under the edge of the crate's lid and prying it upwards.

And if Adelaide gets a nice shot of those back muscles flexing while he does so? Well. That's just a side-perk.

She hadn't walked right into that so much as sprinted full tilt. His succinct response twists a snort of laughter from her as she steps aside to offer the Crow-bar. That he ignores it is curious until he actually starts pulling and that is...a very broad, very fine expanse of back. They did not make men like this in the Spire- they did not make men like this in Orlais. It's left her woefully unprepared for the effect such a musculature would have on her-

In so much that she does find herself staring. Idly. A little entranced.

Church had heard tittering about some big box-o-goodies, but hadn't actually seen much of anything except an occasional person with a friend or two, showing off a trinket. So when Adelaide stops him, he's a little surprised. And also already has an idea what this is about. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"So all the handouts, those are from you?"

"You--really?" Korrin raises her eyebrows, a bit surprised to be mentioned at all but...well. If this is what it gets her, she'll gladly live with that. She'll take at least a jar, mentally calculating her share against the others of her in the kind the area. "Not the whole thing, I'd never deny the others. But I won't say no an equal portion."

She flashes a grin, considering this an extension of First Day now. Why not? "Well, I can't say your family's attempt isn't working. I'm flattered. And grateful, this will come in need whenever we take the Western Approach." One reason why Korrin didn't push to go there; her horns will itch like crazy in the dry heat.

To be fair, he has that effect.

Once the crate's actually been popped open, Bull turns to regard Adelaide with a crooked brow, noting that dreamy little look on her face and smirking all over again. "Piece of cake. Anything else you need help getting into? Just say the word."

So when Bull's arms fold over his chest, it's maybe more than a little purposefully. It's not as though he minds being oggled, necessarily.

"Yes. 'Dear mother, I am still alive, I'm with the Inquisition, and these are the people I have met and their complaints', it is how we bond. She sends me lists of the complaints of her associates, I send her mine. Apparently she took it to be a shopping list." Adelaide peers back into the case, counting the jars. "Will there be enough? How much do you typically use and- do you know what it is made of? I might be able to make more if I know the ingredients and can guess at the ratio."

That'd save her mother the trouble of sending along more- but that might also be defeating the point. "The LeBlanc School of politics. Buy favor when possible. The next step is usually negotiations."

Oh that's not fair at all. In the light and when she isn't wound tight enough to snap at an errant breeze she's much better able to appreciate everything and there is...so. So much to appreciate. And he knows it. Of course he knows it. How can he not know it. She makes a valiant attempt to drag her eyes up to his face and get caught in the middle. With the wrists and the forearms and the hands and the-

Everything under. Shoulders. Clavicle. Jaw. Eyes.

"I- ah. Will keep that in mind." Contents. She needs to peer at the contents of The crate. A little pink herself she starts picking through, frowning at a marked crate in particular. "...would you like a jar of horn balm for your efforts? I think that is what this is."

"My family. I wrote of the Rifters and they felt you ought to be adequately prepared for life in Thedas." She offers him his bag with the cookies and tea and socks and everything tucked safely inside. "Take the pamphlet with a grain of salt, my mother is quite biased."

"No kidding?" Now honestly curious, Bull steps in closer, peering down at the stuff with a hum of interest. "Damn. How about that. You don't find that stuff down South. Not easily, at any rate."

Though he does love his luxury items, and it looks like she's got quite the haul here. "Late Wintersend presents? Looks like someone was very, very good this year," he murmurs, cocking his head to look at her over his shoulder.

A quick glance to one of the notes in her hand reveals that not only is there a letter for herself- but whoever runs the Inquisition. "The House LeBlanc sends their regards."

She snorts. "Mother is playing at politics. I suppose this is my family's way of showing support for the Inquisition and all it's associated members. I mentioned we've Vashoth and the weather, hence. Horn balm. The rest will likely be explained in the letter."

The LeBlanc Matriarch is nothing if not thorough in her instructions at all times.

So some fancy Orlesian house was making a power play inside the Inquisition? Water must be wet.

Bull snorts, pulling to his feet with a jar in his hands. "Well, you could do worse. A lot of folks'll be happy getting their hands on these, and a morale boost isn't the worst thing to ask for."

Meanwhile yes, he'll happily get his mitts on a batch of that horn balm, thank you.

"...They are care packages for the Rifters." What. Mother, what? "I thought myself beyond this. I truly did. I should have known better."

At least the Inquisition will be gathering some much needed supplies in some instances, a few luxuries in others, and their ploy might even come to fruition in that she'll be slightly less known as the cranky mage of the healing tents and more of the Orlesian that handed out gifts.

There are worse things to be.

"...I never had an opportunity to thank you." Mostly due to being thoroughly unsettled at the time. "For the night of the wake. Breaking up the scuffle."

Templars and mages, Dorian and her caught in the middle, it hadn't been pretty. Cassandra she managed to thank, eventually. Bull has been gone.

"I've been picking up plenty of information just blundering around here with my lack of understanding anything." He takes the bag and peeks inside. Tea? Huh. He's never had tea that isn't sweet and iced. ...Wait, he's never had that, either. Some kind of lotion? Balm? Thing? Oooo there's a tin--

"Haven't had someone's mom dote on me before. Well, you can tell her thanks from me, Addie."

"Well consider this a brief primer." SHe shifts the considerably lighter bag of bags in her grip, gaze out for any other Tifters she might have missed.

And then the name.

Her reaction is more than it should be, harder, harsher than she's ever spoken to him she snaps. "Don't."

Only three people in all of Thedas might call her that. Church is none of them. "I have a full name. Make use of it."

Hands up, lean back. "Whoa." He's seen her frustrated but not...snappy. This is definitely snappy. (It is also, in plenty of ways, much more expected and familiar.) "Okay, message received. Adelaide. Sure. Fine. No nicknames. Got it."

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[ OPEN ] Now I need to grease a palm

gimme dat chocolate

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Did someone need the brute squad?

He IS the brute squad.

Damn right.

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Courtyard

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