[Open] My Hearth Is Yours

[judgemewhole]

WHO: James Norrington and You
WHAT: Dining with the Commander
WHEN: Throughout Wintermarch
WHERE: The Great Hall
NOTES: Nothing but 'seriously dude, you're hiding something aren't you?'

Even Templars need to eat.

And drink.

Sometimes they have to do a lot of drinking, honestly, but Norrington kept his portions of wine to a reasonable amount when he had it with his supper. He always dined in the main hall, few times with his men, but often times he came in in alone with papers and letters in which he worked upon while he broke meat and bread off and slipped it into his mouth without thinking. His pen never seemed to stop, as he scripted pages and pages of writing -- before tossing some of them aside and grumpily burning others.

Once and awhile, you could catch him with no papers at all, but a book, his head propped up on his hand and his green eyes distant as he read the words on the page and sipped from his glass of wine.

Comments

[equanimiti]

Drinking is something Sauveterre is awfully good at.

Usually haunting the Herald's Rest in the later part of the evening, it's actually a rarity for Alayre to reach the dining halls. The last time he dined here was during the wake and Andraste knows how horrid that while affair was. The only reason for his appearance here now is to pick the brain of a fellow Templar he truly admires.

"How sad." Alayre states as he lingers at the threshold of this grand dining hall. "To dine alone with only mindless paperwork to keep you company." The Orlesian couldn't help but grin a little at James as he dares to approach.

Alayre has taken a more casual style as of late when not dressed like a Templar Knight-Commander. He seems more relaxed this way in dark leathers and warm cottons. His fondness for hooded cloaks are quite apparent too since this is the same dark indigo cloak he wore during their mock spar. Something changed in Alayre as of late or maybe he actually grown comfortable enough not to feel the need for steel anymore. Whatever the reason, the older Templar seems more amiable these days.

"Is there a chance that I could amuse you with conversation over paperwork, good ser?"

[judgemewhole]

"Hmmm, the paperwork is consistent company though. It will never, ever leave me." James replied dryly, as he put his quill back into the ink bottle, leaning back to look at the other man. He was wearing the informal garb of a Knight Commander - shirt open, leather jerkin, and trousers, with the Knight Commander insignia attached to his shoulder.

"I assure you, you will be more amusing than the paperwork. Please, sit. Help yourself to some wine, my friend. Tell me what's going on." He sat back with his own glass, crossing his long legs under the table. "I am due a long break."

[equanimiti]

Alayre had already made his way towards a nearby chair by the time the commander formally invites him. He takes a seat and immediately pours himself a much needed glass on wine. He's done good to keep his alcohol consumption low as of late by always sipping a cup of tea or cider. However, Alayre certainly missed the loving nectar of a crisp sweet wine.

"I certainly don't mind helping myself to your wine, James." The Orlesian says with a tinge of mirth in his tone. "Never shall you find me sampling Fereldan wines any other way." He jests playfully. Alayre spoken like a true connoisseur.

"You have my word that I shan't take my leave until you grow bored of me." He says before taking a generous sip of his glass.

"Not bad."

[judgemewhole]

James snorted softly as he reached for his own glass of wine and took a sip. He eyed the glass, before shrugging after a moment, "It certainly isn't a Tantervale Red, to be certain, but it has it's rustic charms."

Says the Free Marcher boy, with all the snobbery that comes so easily across cultural borders. Softened with a gentle smirk, as he lets himself relax in the chair.

"So, how shall you keep me from growing bored, I ask in faint terror." Is his drawled response.

[equanimiti]

At that tiny bit of playful ribbing, the Orlesian gives James a slight glance. "Oh really?" He asks with a faint chuckle. "Fancy that. I would've never guessed you to possess such refined tastes." More chuckles escape Alayre as he takes another sip of his wine. Careful, James. He's known to drown a bottle or two of red quite easily.

"Have no fear of the horrors I shall bestow upon you. I plan to keep all discussion of work to a minimum." He says while reaching for the wine bottle again to full his glass.

"The rumor mill is spinning about you, dear James. What is all this talk about you wooing elves?" Such a nosy old fellow isn't he? Forgive him, James. Alayre is merely curious.

[demonicbeauty]

Ariadne had a tendency to avoid the Great Hall. This was largely carried over from her career as a spy. It was only when she was playing a role that she would dine in a hall like this. And it made her wildly uncomfortable. So many eyes, so many people. And she had never managed to fully master humanoid table manners. It was always the worst in Valeria, where she constantly forgot which fork was for which course.

Here, though, there was the added stress of the politics of Thedas. She wasn't a part of it, and yet it could control her very existence.

For better or for worse, though, her curiosity sometimes got the better of her. Especially when she was hungry.

And as it happened, she was famished that evening.

She slipped into the hall, wearing the too-big cloak that Korrin had given her on the day she arrived. She smelled bread, which was her absolute favorite thing. Alastrians, by and large, didn't cook. So the idea of combining so many ingredients to create something entirely new was still an intriguing novelty. She thought she might treat herself.

[judgemewhole]

Norrington was, of course, working diligently at his own area he had claimed at one of the long tables. Papers spread out neatly before him in different piles - corresponded with Templars who were still in the field, requests that needed to be filled for supplies he wanted from the Quartermaster (the uniforms he wanted for his men being the top of the list.). Training schedules for the soldiers, all of the above.

His commitment was to the Inquisition, and in due time, the New Order. This was where it began, sadly, with paperwork.

Luckily the Cook had a soft spot for him, so having a basket of fresh rolls and beef and grapes at his elbow was a fine inducement to keep going. He was also famished.

[demonicbeauty]

The Human dining alone pulled Ariadne's attention. He was swathed in the scent of ink and parchment, reminding her of Aden's scent back home. Surely, someone that engrossed in their work wouldn't miss a roll or two.

But ask or snatch? That was the question.

Ariadne drifted closer to his table, weighing her probabilities as best she could. It was harder to do in Thedas than it was back home.

Still. She held many of her old principles firm.

Ask, she decided, straightening to her full height of five foot two and pulling down her hood as she approached.

[judgemewhole]

Norrington was aware of the woman before she approached his side - another ragamuffin refugee who had found herself inside the Great Hall. She had pulled back her hood and was approaching him, so the polite thing to do was to lift his gaze and try for a smile.

"Good evening, madam. How might I help you?" Anyone freely approaching a Templar these days was, in Norrington's opinion, should be treated with courtesy.

[onlyhymns]

Cade would join Norrington and his men in the dining hall sometimes, rarely saying a word but clearly seeking comfort in the camaraderie of fellow Templars. With his Kirkwall brethren scattered to the winds, and Norrington's invitation open, he would hang near them and almost seem to prefer that they consider him ornamental. When the meal was over, he would ghost away.

He hadn't appeared at the table since his sparring incident, but on this particular evening he made his way down, expression shadowed and eyes worried as he scanned the table's occupants. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to sit with them or not, and thankfully none of the men paid him much notice. He was strange, and always a bit of a labor to talk to.

[judgemewhole]

Norrington glanced up to see Cade there, before he tilted his chin to the chair beside him as he carefully cut up his chicken. Giselle and Anamaria were discussing the quickest way to kill a red templar, while Gilette was correcting Murtogg and Mullroy on the court etiquette of where Templars fell in royal society.

Bush was the only one who brightened at the sight of Cade, and gave him a little wave at the end of the table. Norrington glanced over at Burns, arching an eyebrow. Cade didn't want attention - he just wanted to fit in, poor man. Drawing attention to him would only draw him away.

[onlyhymns]

Cade glanced between Bush and Norrington, lowering his head slightly as he went to sit in the indicated chair. Once he'd situated himself, he gave a furtive nod of greeting to Norrington before beginning to eat, his nobleman's table manners evident even after all these years.

[judgemewhole]

They were all quiet for a moment, watching Cade eat as if he was at a banquet in Orlais instead of a long table at Skyhold, before Norrington cleared his throat and spoke to the others, drawing attention away from Cade.

"So I was thinking we would start training how to kill demons and abominations, over the next few weeks. Best strategies, that sort of thing. It might behoove us to have someone write this all down as well, so we have a record of all that we have learned to pass on to the next squad training."

[samahl]

Cyril sees James and then after a moment of consideration goes up to him. He doesn't mean to interrupt if James is working, but he also would like to spend some time with the man alone.

"James?" he asks politely. Then, with an apologetic smile, "Or should I call you Norrington?" He really isn't sure where all of that stands when it comes to humans.

[judgemewhole]

James looks up from the duty roster he is putting together, before his gaze narrows thoughtfully. Oh yes, Cyril. The elven man gets a warm smile, as James puts up his quill pen.

"Cyril, it's a pleasure to see you again - up close as it were - and no, please, call me James." He stood up, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Would you care to join me?"

[samahl]

Cyril nodded and then slid into the seat next to James. He smiled at that invitation. "I would, thank you. I thought it might be a good chance for us to have an actual conversation."

[judgemewhole]

Now, this? This had been exactly what James had been hoping for. A member of Pel's family, coming to sit with him and speak. He exhaled a sight of relief, before he pulled over two goblets. Then he paused. "I would delight in that - ah, would you like some wine?"

[el_tybs]

"Is this a bad time?"

Holding his own plate of food and mug of his drink for the evening, Sam raises his brows at the Templar. He doesn't exactly want to disturb his friend, but they've both been a bit busy and... well a number of things seemed to be going on.

[judgemewhole]

James looked up at the sound of Sam's voice, and gave him a tired smile, if not warm. He shook his head before he stacked up some of his papers to give him some room to sit.

"Not at all. I was just thinking I should break to eat. Please, join me Sam."

He stacked the papers aside, and since it was Sam, put his total focus on the young man as he reached for his own food and wine. "So, how are you? I feel I haven't seen you in awhile."

[el_tybs]

James certainly looks tired, but he doesn't comment on it, instead watching the stacks of papers come together then get pushed to the side. James had always done that, finding time for him regardless of how busy he was.

Setting his plate down, Sam shakes his head a bit. "Knowing you when you say 'thinking' you mean you thought it hours ago and just completely ignored it." Also so very like James.

"I've been... well. It's been a bit busy considering a number of 'little birds' let loose it was my birthday not too long ago."

[judgemewhole]

"Well, come on, Sam. The sooner I get the paperwork done, the sooner I can eat. Of course had I waited to finish it might have been midnight before I thought to eat again, so I shall concede the point." He lifted his glass, saluting him, before his gaze brightened.

"Did you like it? I know you don't like being overwhelmed ... but everyone really wanted to get you that cake and those tools."

[perseverances]

Cullen often eats when he can, and when he does, he usually takes his meals up in his office. It's rare that he's able to take food at a decent time and eat in public. He's grateful to be out of his office today, because if he has to read one more report he might scream. Such was the life of leadership, sadly.

It's today that he has a bit of food with him, and while he's not actively looking for someone to sit with, he spots Norrington off to the side. He's careful to move about in the hall, and when he approaches the table, he clears his throat. "Mind if I join you?"

[judgemewhole]

Norrington is frowning a letter he is reading, mentally sighing to himself. Honestly, what did these Mothers expect him to do? He could no more force the Inquisition forces to do a game of Wicked Grace as he could to force them to do anything for the Chantry now. He was considering his response as, 'Go soak yourself in the Amaranthine Ocean' or 'Go Kiss A Dragon, Revered Mother', when he heard a voice at his elbow.

He looked up, seeing a familiar face, and gave Cullen a wry smile.. "Absolutely not - let me just ... make some space." He piles up the papers, into one giant pile. "There, please sit."

The man looked as aggrieved as he felt. "You look like you're having a frustrating afternoon."

[perseverances]

"I always have a frustrating afternoon," he replies as he sits, placing his cup and plate down on the table. It's not much, but truly, he's not that hungry today. He's sure he'll hear the ire of his sister and a few others because of that, but he'll take that chance.

"I hope I didn't interrupt." Motioning to the letter.

[judgemewhole]

"Hmmm, I am starting to think there ought to be some sort of association." Norrington finally pulled his own plate in front of him, glad that the food hadn't gone completely cold.

A glance at the letter, before he rolled his eyes. "Some of the Chantry Mothers are trying to convince me to convince ... well, all of you, that you need to accept the Chantry's authority now." He cut into his meat. "I was considering between telling them to jump into the ocean or to bugger off, but I wasn't sure that was the right tone to set."