WAR TABLE MISSION: People of Riftwatch

[bouchonne]

WHO: Diplomacy interviewers and interviewees
WHAT: As outlined in this ooc post, Diplomacy members have been asked to interview other members of Riftwatch to gather information so they can have pamphlets written about them.
WHEN: Whenever
WHERE: Diplomacy office
NOTES: None as of yet

The Diplomacy office has a rather nice set-up: there are a few comfortable chairs and couches, and the offices themselves are well-supplied with coffee, tea, and drinks of a stronger nature. So, at the very least, the interviewers and their subjects will feel relatively comfortable during their conversation.

If things go according to plan, each interviewer will be set up in the office when their interview subject arrives. Benedict Artemaeus will have opened the door and shown the interviewee inside and will have gotten them a drink of their choice. From there, it falls to the interviewer to ask the first question.

Comments

for edgard!

[deuselfmachina]

It's the novelty of the thing that has Florent here early and ready, with some pages and a quill and ink all set up on a table next to some comfortable seating. He is not currently seated, having wandered over to where the drinks are being supplied, opening a tin of tea and shaking it around as he contemplates some of the glass bottles full of liquor.

He is colourful, bright yellows and deep blues, riotous embroidery of all colours decorating his tunic, a silken robe of a flowy nature long enough to reach bare ankles. At the sound of someone entering, he puts down the tin of tea with a clatter, as if maybe he's been caught doing something he ought not to be.

[muckspout]

Edgard's eyebrows raise at the reaction of the person in front of him and takes in his attire. He momentarily feels self conscious about his own which is the same brown tunic and pants he's worn every day for the past five years.

"Am I too early or do you need more time with your.." He pauses a bit too long. "..tea?"

Is it tea? With that reaction, it probably isn't tea.

[deuselfmachina]

It's tea.

And it's forgotten, Florent turning to face him and offering a smile. "Edgard!" he says. Instinctively switching to Orlesian at first sign of an accent, he continues with, "Yes? I hope so," while moving on in, unmindful of any disparity of wardrobe, silks fluttering as he reaches out his hands in what will be an attempt to take Edgard's in greeting.

"If not, perhaps you will let me interview you anyway so I can practice."

[muckspout]

Edgard nods gruffly, the switch to Orlesian no problem at all.

"'s me. Edgard." He awkwardly allows his hand to be taken, but he's not sure what he's supposed to do with it. It just kind of lays there.

"Must be Florent." He responds to cover this up and he smacks him hard on the shoulder with the hand that isn't awkwardly laying in Florent's hands in greeting. It's supposed to be friendly.

[deuselfmachina]

"Florent Va—scarelle," you know, in case Edgard has ever heard of him, but does not seem to anticipate it. Also, that little skip in his last name from the smack to his shoulder, which earns a late laugh while he holds Edgard's hand.

Which doesn't need to do anything but be held as Florent goes to pull him towards the seating, a very friendly grasp as though they'd known each other for longer than approximately seven seconds. "Would you like anything to drink? I think we're allowed."

[muckspout]

Edgard smiles widely as he sits. He gives a little shrug.

"Alright." He says. "Wouldn't mind if it was a bit stronger than--uh--tea?"

He still is suspicious of the tea. There's no way that was just tea.

"But, 'll take anything." This is true. He really will. Give him anything.

[deuselfmachina]

"How promising."

And Florent spins away to go find him something stronger than tea, collecting up literally any bottle of some kind of liquor and a couple of glasses. "Have you ever been interviewed before?" he asks, swanning his way back and sitting down. There is, in fact, some writing utensils on hand, some pages, but he ignores these for now as he pours them their drinks. Brandy, apparently.

"You don't seem nervous," he adds. "It would be understandable for you to be so, but entirely unnecessary."

[muckspout]

"Not nervous." He says nodding in approval as Florent pours. "Was interviewed once about my views on mud."

He says this matter of factly.

"Think a pamphlet was written." He's basically famous. "This also for some kind of pamphlet? You interviewed people much?"

[deuselfmachina]

Florent's eyes widen a little at the prospect of someone having views on mud, but—he scarcely wants to retread trodden ground, so simply slides their glasses in front of them both and goes to pick up his pencil and his medieval clipboard, twiddling with the former as he considers the latter.

"I think it will be a pamphlet," he says. "Or a series of them, you know, the people of Riftwatch. I have not really conducted interviews before, but like you, I have been interviewed. But anyway,"

as tempting as it is to talk about himself, Florent forces himself to breeze past the prospect with the usual patter of fast Orlesian,

"we should begin. We should begin with the most interesting thing about you. And is it true, that you were part of a band of thieves?"

[muckspout]

Edgard puffs up a little. Is this common knowledge?

"Yes." He says with a tone of suspicion. "Who told you that?"

He takes a drink and wipes his lips with his arm.

"Thieving wasn't the--" He waves his hand. "Yes, we were thieves."

[deuselfmachina]

"No, no, monsieur," Florent says, with a flap of his hands, although his expression is too evenly imploring to be real worry or panic. "It is only what I have heard. It is your story to elaborate, and my task to help."

He gestures with his pencil. "Thieving wasn't the what?"

[muckspout]

He really hasn't spoken about this to many people here. But, he takes a long sip and shrugs.

"We didn't take things for the sake of taking them. Well--maybe some did, but the point was to try to help people. But, yes, we were thieves."

He had been one of many and never particularly helpful, but it had felt like a purpose.