faderift | [Closed] Drink With Me To Days Gone By

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[Closed] Drink With Me To Days Gone By

WHO: DAI advisors and companions, yes even Cole
WHAT: Drinking and remembering... party? Not a party.
WHEN: Mid Guardian, right after this. Well, once everyone's not freezing ass in the snow.
WHERE: Vivienne's Balcony
NOTES: Drinks. Feels. Varric and Cassandra, please keep to opposite ends of the balcony, if you please. (Tag around and in and whatever how you like.)

[After the heated emotional outbreak over the sending crystal, and the resultant reminder of the one they've lost, Vivienne quietly opens her balcony to those who knew the Herald best. Silent drinking is allowed, raging tempers are not. Sharing fond memories of the Herald welcomed and possibly even craved.]

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( She is surprised when the Iron Bull approaches her, but perhaps she should not be. He might be one of those better equipped to understand, given his intended infiltration of the Inquisition and his expertise, though Leliana is still all sharp edges, still raw that she missed something, that she keeps missing something.

And he wants to speak business. A relief, frankly, though her shoulders do not ease and her jaw tightens. They need something. )

Consider me at your disposal.

( She glances to the nearest party guest (if such a gathering as this can be called a party) assessing for a moment before sweeping her gaze back to Bull. Their absence would be noted, she suspects. )

Just figured you'd want a head's up. No one wants this stuff getting to wherever it's going.

[ Which is realistically the only reason these reports are being shared. The Inquisition is in a better position to deal with it than any of them, though they'd be in better shape if...

No point thinking about if. Even if it seems that's why they're all here. Too many close calls, and one too late for any of them to do anything about now.

Bull huffs, shoulders going lax. ]

You spoken to him?

I appreciate it. As soon as you can get the report to me, I can formulate an immediate response with the advisors.

( At the question, her expression shutters. The tension between her shoulders tightens barely perceptively, but the Iron Bull is Ben-Hassrath, and doubtless he can see what others cannot. )

No. ( Such a reply should be simple; it is not. So many things could, should follow it, but she offers nothing. Zevran should be able to recover in peace, not with the person who failed to protect him looming as his doorway. She can get her information on him from others. ) Have you?

[ That gets a grunt, a faint nod. But what was said was private, and unlikely to be useful to anyone else if shared. He's in a state much like any should expect after capture and torture, particularly from a background like his. ]

I'll keep an eye on him.

[ Why shouldn't need spelling out, and it's not the sort of thing to mention at a party. Wouldn't want to tank the mood, would they? ]

( And this is one of the rare instances where she will not pry, under any circumstances. Let Zevran have some peace. She has done enough already. She remembers well what it is to be tortured, though the worst scars left on her that long week were emotional. Marjolaine shattered her, and Dorothea helped her rise again.

She was, unfortunately, not near so capable of helping someone as the Divine had been, even before she became Justinia. A long pause drags between them before she answers. )

I... appreciate it.

( But this is not the topic for a party, is it? And she is not well suited to parties, save in a more dangerous capacity. )

How do you fare?

( With... everything, really. Everything might about cover it. )

You know me.

[ Bull smiles, and it almost seems real enough. It tugs at the corners of his eyes, the deep gouges in his face that run up beneath that eyepatch. ]

I keep busy. No shortage of reasons to go out and smack a few heads together. Got a few people interested in some extra training, too.

[ Though how many of them want training and how many simply want to be able to say they went toe-to-toe with him? Is a matter of debate. Probably for someone else. He's happy to indulge, most of the time.

Time spent with something to do means less time to dwell on past mistakes, should-have-beens, or other assorted forms of brooding. Which is as good an answer as he can give for how he is. He doesn't let himself be anything less than busy.

Everyone copes in their own way. ]

( Leliana hums a quiet response, affirmative. In reality, she believes she knows what the Iron Bull wants her to see, at the very least. There was so much calculation to be considered; what he shows her that his superiors would allow, what he himself deems allowable, how much of what is shown is a facade and what might be genuine. It cannot be so simple - no person is ever simple, not truly.

Perhaps she should let it be, for once. On this evening, even if she cannot on any others. Perhaps she has becoming too harsh and too quick and eager to judge, to divide things into strict compartments. )

Therapeutic and constructive. I suspect you may be leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of us.

( With, you know, all of this sitting and standing around and grieving. It was necessary. She knows that so well, but allowed too much, it could be complete debilitating. She raises her glass in a silent I'll drink to that, before tipping back some of the wine. )

[ There's a huff that might be amusement. Deep down. ]

Nothing wasted under the Qun, remember. You feel rage? You turn it on your enemies. Grief? Use it to make sure everyone else stays safe, taking the necessary measures. It's just something else to use along the way. Another tool for the benefit of the whole.

[ Except in this case, 'the whole' isn't the Qun. Not necessarily. His efforts go towards the Inquisition because that's where they're needed most. That is going to be the force that turns the tide...and perhaps in part because that's what Evelyn would have wanted.

His respect for her and the cause she died for isn't going to waste, either. ]

The Qun seems relentlessly pragmatic, to an outsider. ( Though her tone could be taken for quiet admiration, mixed in with her caution. There are times that she wished such pragmatism came to her easily, though there are matters of the Qun that she objects to with a visceral passion. But what is impressive is that all follow and there are rules, though Leliana would sooner see them twisted to allow freedom and protection, to rip power from those who abuse it.

Sometimes she is concerned by the paths her own mind runs, and so the new problematic thought it carefully boxed up, locked away in her own mental vault. )

The 'tool' part makes sense. Although-- ( She pauses, a moment, looking to Bull curiously. ) i cannot imagine it is always easy.

If doing your job was always easy, what would be the point of you doing it?

[ Bull smirks faintly at that, head tipping slightly. For all the differences people choose to see in how the Qun did things, ultimately the goals weren't so different.

A spymaster ought to know. ]

But if it looks easy, means you're doing your job right.

( A wry grin, at that. ) Quite.

( She certainly cannot imagine just anyone being able to manage what she does. Then again, there are times she doubts her own capacity for it, her own ability. Nights such as this, where she dwells on how her cautious in recalling her scouts cost them their Herald, how they are having this gathering because she lost them the warning that might have let Evelyn live, nights like the one where Zevran was taken.

That last part... well. If it looks easy, means you're doing your job right, it makes her look to Bull with a new focus. A barb? A critique? "Friendly" advice, perhaps, that she is showing too much, and not concealing well enough. That she should be making it look easy, when she feels she is doing the exact opposite of that, whenever she descends from her tower for too long. Then again, she has aways excelled at smoke and mirrors, even when it feels as though her very nerves were alight will all she feels.

She wonders what is the best way to respond. )

When we act with certainty, it should be easy. ( Certainty is, however, an ever elusive type of prey. )

Yeah. Should.

[ There's a quirk at the corner of his lips. Having it look easy and it actually being easy? Never the same thing. Might be easier to bear if it was, but that was their lot in life. She did a good job keeping herself together, all things consider.

'Nightingale' was a deceptively delicate-sounding title. But the reputation that came with it was anything but. ]

( Should was part of so many challenging queries for Leliana, of late. For the last decade or so, really, and the answers were never as easy as one would hope. "Should" and "easy" were both, she suspected, unrealistic ideals. Things to hope for and never expect. )

Speaking of 'should,' ( Leliana starts, setting down her now-empty glass, ) I suspect I should make my return to the Rookery.

( Or 'chicken coop,' thank you, Dorian. ) Report to me at the earliest convenience, if you could. ( And entirely aware of how demanding that might sound, she amends, ) Tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.

( Mourning should not be interrupted, after all. Nor should celebrating, and she's not entirely certain where this falls on the spectrum. )

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[Closed] Drink With Me To Days Gone By

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