[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

[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.

[judgemewhole]

"I am from the Free Marches, Alayre, not from the Hinterlands." Came James's equally dry response. He himself is going to sip at his wine, thank you. If Alayre wanted to polish off two bottles, he would be glad to carry him back to his room.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers. There are some things that we need to talk about ... but they can wait." He sipped again, before he arched an eyebrow. He sipped once more, and stated firmly, "I am not wooing elves, plural. I am wooing a singular elf, and her name is Pel."

[equanimiti]

"Fair enough." Alayre replies with a faint smirk upon his lips. The Orlesian isn't about to trade blows about refinement here and now. There's more interesting matters to discuss.

"Is there?" His previous smirk fades into a more serious frown. "Depending on how dire, perhaps we could speak of it sooner than later." He mentions briefly before approaching the topic at hand.

"Pel? I do believe I know of that name but never met her formally." Alayre only knows of her briefly from his dealing with the Mage Council. To be frank, he hasn't gone out of his way to introduce himself to anyone as of late. The man's quite reclusive to some respect.

"You're the talk of Skyhold, James, and I mean this in a good way."

[judgemewhole]

James nodded his head, the smirk on his own face fading to something into something more serious. "We can - once we have finished supper. I refuse to talk politics on an empty stomach."

He nodded, and unbidden, his green eyes lit up from within, his smile softened and he suddenly seemed more ... at ease than he was a few moments ago. "Yes, Pel. I shall have to introduce you - in fact I shall have to introduce her to all my Templar friends." He paused, then sighed, "...Perhaps to Cade. I believe she and Nerva are already ... acquainted."

Now his eyebrows rose together, "All right, I'll bite. How so?"