orlaiscation all i ever wanted (semi-open)

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa and Vanadi and Orlesians et al
WHAT: Catch-all for Athessa's Orlesian Bardcation
WHEN: 3 month span (Cloudreach, Bloomingtide, and Justinian)
WHERE: Val Royeaux
NOTES: People are welcome to bump into her in Val Royeaux if they happen to be there so long as they don't blow her cover.

i. on the boat (closed to Nikos)

[ Nikos being on the boat is, needless to say, something of an odd coincidence that Athessa manages not to notice until she sees him on deck, blessedly early enough on the voyage to avoid the worst of her seasickness.

She approaches him, standing next to him at the gunwale and giving him a friendly (if tight-lipped) smile. ]

Where are you off to, then?

ii. in the city (Cloudreach)

The apartment that Athessa finds isn't much; by Orlesian standards it's downright paltry without being neck-deep in the slums. By Athessa's standards, it's fine. Nothing worth complaining about at all. It's small, located above a textile shop, and it has a blue door. It came with a bed, a fireplace, a kitchen, a washroom, and an old sofa with a filigree back that's seen better days. The paint on the walls is flaking, the door creaks, the floor is dusty and hasn't seen wax in years. The chimney definitely needs sweeping before it's usable...but all of this is doable and Athessa isn't going to argue that they aren't reasons to lower the price of the rent.

The first week or so is spent getting the apartment in working order and getting a sense of the neighborhood, exploring in the way one must when moving to a new city. Athessa wanders from place to place, fetching necessary items and asking directions for various things, familiarizing herself with the butcher and the baker and other sundry incumbent merchants. Not everyone is willing to give her the time of day, but a few people yet surprise her with their general helpful natures.

Around the third week of Cloudreach is when Athessa believes she's found a few choice areas to start performing. She keeps a list of them in mind, ranked from most to least likely to get her the kind of exposure she needs, along with a general knowledge of when she has the best chance of being discovered. It isn't her only tactic, of course; if she can't get herself an invitation to the party as a performer, like Lexie said, she could get invited as a guest, and for that she keeps an ear out for any mention of it. The easiest way to get invited is by proxy, after all.

iii. on the stage (Bloomingtide)

[tbd]

iv. on the list (Justinian)

[tbd]

Comments

ii. in the city

[sulahnan]

[ nest all threads from Cloudreach/April under here! ]

a visit.

[cozen]

Bastien warns her that he's coming to Val Royeaux, but by letter, well over a week in advance, with only a vague estimate of when and no mention of where or how.

The answers to all of those outstanding questions are: now, in the bright and bustling district surrounding the Grande Royeaux Theater, and by planting himself on the low stone wall around the base of a tall, golden statue and its surrounding greenery, in a place he's confident—because he's good at his job, this is his city, and he knows who to ask—she'll be putting in an appearance.

In the meantime, he's reading a book. It hides most of his face. But his hair and eyebrows are visible above it, and his posture and clothes are his usual fare.

[sulahnan]

Though she knows he's coming, she doesn't keep that knowledge in the forefront of her mind. She lets herself focus on her mission, such as it is, so that when Bastien shows up she won't have to feign surprise at his appearance. What could be more of a giveaway than a forced reaction?

So when she sees that hair, those eyebrows, Athessa doesn't stop to change course. She sits on the opposite side of the statue, unpacks her instrument, and begins to tune it. This is how she starts.

Her fingers have gotten used to tuning the mandolin by now, have formed calluses where her fingertips press on the strings to form the notes. This is all muscle memory.

She turns her face out to the crowd, not gathered to listen but going about their daily activities. Her scar is covered by makeup, eyes rimmed with kohl, and she's adorned her cheekbones with blue and gold ink in delicate floral whorls. They match the general design of the tattoo at her wrist, which has also been drawn over with the same ink. Paired with the intricate braids in her hair and the jewelery on her ears, she definitely looks the part of a foreigner to these streets, trying to assimilate while retaining her otherness.

The first song she plays doesn't have words, just music that she coaxes out of the strings.

[highborn]

It's a lovely evening, and so with the window open and a cat that isn't his perched on the desk beside him, Vanadi has been writing with the last bit of light. It's a pleasant thing, writing to someone, he's always thought so. The journal is an intriguing and accessible alternative, but there is no real replacement for a letter. He takes his time with this, his penmanship careful and peppered with modest flourishes ... he takes his time enough that he nearly misses the footsteps and giggling that approach the front door of this little apartment.

Some of the laughter he knows -- that's Athessa, of course, he knows her footfalls as well. The other he can't place, though he does know the tone of it perfectly well. This is romantic banter. These are laughs not over anything wittily said, just over the pleasure of the evening and its company.

He jolts to his feet as if burned, but there's a grin on his face as he rushes to collect a few belongings, tuck away anything obviously not Athessa's. It's not difficult, he's not added much to their stay here, but he does nearly forget to toss his spare pair of boots into the small closet.

Then he's out the window, leaving behind an apartment that surely only one person lives in, just as the door opens. From the sound of it, he'd have to be pretty noisy to manage to divert any of their attention away from each other -- but he climbs carefully regardless, swinging himself up onto the roof without a sound. He can finish his letter up here just as easily as down there, after all, and settles down to do just that.

[sulahnan]

This isn't a terribly involved or slow-moving vehicle for romantic banter, and it isn't a date. There's no tour of the barely-one-room apartment, no appreciation for the decor or small-talk preceding the continued laughter, sounds of kissing, and soft sighs of pleasure. This is just a conclusion to something that started well before they relocated to Athessa's flat, and the elf and her momentary companion — a blonde woman with tan skin and freckles hidden under her makeup — don't even make it to the bed. The sofa will do just fine.

After the blonde, Lilou, has hastily redressed and bids Athessa goodnight with one last lingering kiss and a moue of regret that she can't stay longer, Athessa sighs and lays back across the length of the sofa, smiling up at the ceiling. She catches her breath there a moment, then stands up to retrieve her robe from where it drapes over the foot of her bed.

"Alright," she calls quietly. She steps out onto the balcony, side-stepping a planter so she can lean over the railing and look up towards the roof. "The coast is clear."

[highborn]

Vanadi loses himself for a bit in this letter-writing -- he has to, really, because he's taken upon himself to write in Orlesian, and that's worth a good deal of concentration. The daylight disappears, and absentmindedly he replaces it with a small, glimmering light cupped in the palm of his hand. The noises of the city liven for the evening, the unnamed cat bids him adieu, and his letter is almost finished by the time he hears Athessa's voice.

He reappears a brief moment afterward, his supplies cleaned up and tucked away, and a few short hops drop him lightly on the balcony.

"Bonne soirée, ma chérie," he says brightly, still caught up in the language he's been working on, and slips one arm around Athessa's waist as he leans to press a kiss to her temple. "Have you had a good time?"

[sulahnan]

She closes her eyes for that kiss, smiling, and hums her quiet answer. Mmhmm. She still has some lingering trepidation about being here, in Orlais, but being here, with Vanadi, is nice.

The cool breeze coming in off the balcony cuts through the thin fabric of Athessa's robe, so she draws Vanadi further into the room to be able to swing the doors shut and latch them.

"I tried to make sure we were loud enough coming in that you had warning — I guess it worked?"

[highborn]

Vanadi trails after her, drifting away once he's inside just to set his letter-writing kit at the desk and shrug off his jacket, draping it across the chair there.

"It worked perfectly," he says. "Though only just in time. I was writing in Orlesian, and concentrating far too deeply on it. I'll be quicker next time, I'm sure."

[sulahnan]

"Next time," she echoes on a breath of laughter. Whether or not there'll even be a next time is a question yet to be answered.

Obviously.

"Is it just me, or does writing in Orlesian look prettier than writing in Trade?"

[highborn]

"Oh, to be sure. It's the accents, I think. They encourage flourishes all throughout the rest," he says, and pulls the chair from the desk. He spins it about to settle into a comfortable sprawl in it, facing outward to the rest of the room. "Now, tell me -- have you eaten?"

[sulahnan]

Her shoulders lift and drop in a loose shrug. "In a manner of speaking. Who're you writing to in Orlesian?"

[highborn]

That's well worth a grin -- and also counts as a yes, he supposes. He relaxes more into his sprawl, releasing thoughts of dinner.

"Mhavos," he says. "I'm making a fool of myself, I'm certain. I must sound like a toddler with delusions of grandeur."

[sulahnan]

"That's how my letters already sound in Trade," she matches his grin and leans against the back of the well-worn sofa. She doesn't bother to hold her robe shut now that the balcony doors are shut. "Did you tell him about that wheel of cheese that got loose? I think he'd have a good laugh about that."

iii. on the stage

[sulahnan]

[ nest all threads from Bloomingtide/May under here! ]

iv. on the list

[sulahnan]

[ nest all threads from Justinian/June under here! ]

[exsecutus]

[Nikos, with his elbows resting on the rail, takes a moment before he shifts his eyes from the horizon to her. Oh, was his first thought. Her. His face is telling a slightly stronger story: displeased, stormy. Then again, she is, allegedly, friends with Kostos, who often looks worse.

So.]

I'm here for fun. I love feeling like weak-kneed shit.

[He looks back out across the water.]

You?

[sulahnan]

Same, [ she nods, and leans against the rail as well. ] The barfing hasn't started yet, but it's only a matter of time.

[exsecutus]

Mm. Be far away from me when you start.

[Not a request. He keeps looking out on the water.]

Perendale is my real answer. Nevarra is a mess.

[sulahnan]

[ Naturally, the tip of her head says. ]

Hmm. And you're gonna fix it?

[exsecutus]

[Ha. His mouth curls in a mean sharp smirk. If it were a blade, it would cut inward.]

Already tried that.

[sulahnan]

And it went perfectly and there are no more problems? That's great!

[ The sidelong look she casts in Nikos' direction is wry. ]

[exsecutus]

[Ha ha ha. Nikos casts his gaze down to the rail of the gunwale. There's a scar in the wood, a long jagged mark. He shifts his grip, presses his thumb at its apex.]

I'd rather see Nevarra razed than continue the way it is. Dumbly watching isn't something I can stomach any better.

[sulahnan]

Well, [ Athessa doesn't know anything about how Nevarran works or doesn't work. ] That's pretty drastic. What's so unfixable about how it is right now? Other than all the unquiet dead in Nevarra City. That's proper fucked.

[exsecutus]

I don't give a shit about Nevarra City. You didn't hear? The resistance in Perendale--which we, Riftwatch, intervened with, in some small ways--was recently and brutally cut down? Hangings. Anything that threatens the occupying forces will not be permitted. The new leader of that city is said to be worse than the last. The people will be suffocated into submission and they won't ever learn--

[He jabs his thumb at the notch in the rail, with more force.]

--They could have better. That it is not just the occupation that crushes them. They were crushed when Nevarra was still all her own.

[sulahnan]

Of course I didn't hear, nobody tells me anything.

[ She shrugs, helpless and only mildly defensive, because goddamn, Nikos. ]

So what're you gonna do?