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[ungovernable]

WHO: Benevenuta Thevenet, Dorian Pavus, Zevran Arainai, Nerva Lecuyer, Taashath, Rafael Viteri AND THE OTHER ONE. I don't know how to spell that and I already looked up Rafa's name.
WHAT: Pretty much what it says on the tin. And by tin I mean subject line.
WHEN: Covering a span of several weeks, after puppies and before showing up late to Emprise du Lion.
WHERE: Nevarra, mostly.
NOTES: Plotting post; original sign up post. Get at me at matriarchal or via PM if you have needs.

Having taken Ayse's information to the Inquisition leaders, Benevenuta is dispatched with a small group to handle the matter in Nevarra. Feel free to do individual closed threads within the subheaders of anything you want to achieve in Nevarra, and we can work out amongst ourselves how best to do plot elements! We will try to spread out plot contributions so that we don't get bogged down in a ten thousand person thread for any one part.

Comments

[ombranera]

Layers and layers- or aren't there?

Of course there are, he may be no magister but he is of Tevinter. The manner in which the Magisterium carries on, the way a man such as Dorian lives? Puts the Orlesian Game to shame. What exactly he is after Zevran cannot pick out; but it benefits him little to be less than agreeable. Without a word he lifts the lute to Dorian's waiting hand, head dipped in a nod that is similar enough to demure should that be what he wishes to see- but not so much as to mean insult should that not be his intent.

[liberalum]

Dorian's doesn't bat an eye at the deferential nod; elves being deferential is the same as elves being invisible, and not necessarily in a rude way. But he does take the lute, with a sound in his throat that implies thanks, before he moves to lean against a neighbouring tree, setting his foot back against the trunk in his own mimicry of rogueish bard.

But as his fingertips draw over the strings, it seems as though he has some skill. The tune is something from Qarinus, less plodding than the average southern ballad. Occasionally, he trips over a note, correcting swiftly enough.

"I have about three of these altogether in my repertoire," he says, after a moment of playing. "I was never good at it quickly enough to want to learn more."

[ombranera]

"It does require patience." Not to imply Dorian is impatient. "And a skilled instructor."

Not to imply whoever was teaching Dorian isn't skilled. Truly he..does not know what prompted this, but he listens- picking out the melody in an attempt to place it but for very many reasons, he never truly spent time in the Imperium, let alone lingered should he pass through. Such a place is horribly dangerous for elves. The song, the man, his intention are all unfamiliar but not beyond his ability to discern.

"You have fine hands for playing, I must say." Artist's hands, mage's hands. Longfingered and subtl calloused from pens and staves, it'd take time for them to build up along the pads of his fingers to better hold the strings.

[liberalum]

There isn't much ulterior motive to give away, although the side-along glance out the corner of Dorian's eye might imply some motive in simply seeing Zevran's reception to a friendly Tevinter not-really-a-magister. Dorian remembers: the miserable uphill trek from the ruined Haven, and sitting down with strangers like this, and forcing them to like him primarily so he didn't go mad, and could earn a decent spot by the fire.

It's more challenge than supplication. Daring to be found charming.

"You're too kind," Dorian says, his melody unravelling as he picks out a scale, as if unrusting himself. "I might have the hands for it, but I must lack the heart. You know, I attended a Circle where learning music was considered a means of sharpening a mage's talent for complex spellwork. And I'm far better at complex spellwork than I am at music."

He stills the strings with the flat of his hand, and turns the lute around for Zevran to take back from him. "It seems somewhat removed from your usual profession."

[ombranera]

A posture and practice Zevran knows well- enough for whatever concerns he harbored initially to unknot in the back of his mind. Far from home, Tevinter being what it is, Dorian being who he is? Zevran is unsurprising by this much...he is surprised that Dorian seeks to make this ploy with him. He is an assassin, true, and known well for his association for the hero of Ferelden and Alistair, also true-

But he is an elf. Much as he says he is an Antivan first some things are beyond ignoring.

"They have, I suppose, similar concepts. Muscle memory and will weaving something into being- though a bard's song is a bit less impressive than a lightening strike." He has to grant that, having seen some shade of Dorian practicing in the yard. All flair, more like a dance than battle magic. Wynne and Morrigan were never quite so flamboyant.

He takes the lute back and begins to pick out the first strains of what Dorian had played, correcting himself once or twice. "Deft hands and a quick memory are something of a requirement as an Assassin. Having something to make me look less dangerous, well. No one looks twice at an elf with an instrument at a ball. Even if someone has been killed."