faderift | Open: Party Preparations

Open: Party Preparations

WHO: Josephine, Vivienne, OPEN
WHAT: Preparing the Inquisition for the Soiree
WHEN: 15 Guardian to 14 Drakonis (about a month's span before the event)
WHERE: Skyhold, varies
NOTES: * Josephine is the hostess of the shindig. Matters regarding invitations, guest lists, admittance, entertainment, food, or general complaints/suggestions should be directed to her.
* Vivienne has personally invited three tailors from Val Royeaux to assist with clothes making for the attendees. She is available to assist with design selections and/or advice on how to behave.
* YOU are open and invited to grab your nearest and dearest CR to complain about the party, ask for a date to he event, complain you have nothing to wear.
* Belinda Darrow has donated from her own private purse to the cost of clothing which people could otherwise not afford.

The Orlesian tailors arrived in great state, bringing with them a cadre of servants, workers, and snotty attitudes. They hate everything. It is cold in Skyhold. It is damp. Everything smells of wet dog. The working conditions are abysmal. The food is criminal. There's not a damned thing they don't complain about, except for the piles of coin they stand to make from this soiree. Yes, they are more than content to build a fortune with exclusive work that will be seen by some of the aristocracy's finest.

Harritt apparently doesn't much like them either. They've taken over his Undercroft with their fabrics and threads, designs and opinions. Oh they have opinions. He stays to one corner, attending his work, and grumbling under his breath about the poncy cheesesniffers.

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"Oh, I'm sorry, but who was the one who decided to bring the plaidweave? Because that's a hilarious joke of a material. I presume it was a joke, yes? Don't even get it anywhere near me."

This is something Twisted Fate generally enjoys, actually. Mocking said plaidweave aside, he's thrilled to see the various materials from Orlais and letting the tailors dress him up as they'd like. He may not necessarily take their advice, but he's certainly not going to turn his nose down at the prospect of wearing various Orlesian clothing.

Not a chance.

"But you're a Marcher that isn't supposed to know better and the plaidweave must go somewhere." While her own fittings and consultations went with all the grace she'd given her harrowing- Adelaide is better able to look at her friends in much the same and spare some humor. "Whatever are they going to put you in?"

That does make him chuckle and he bows his head slightly to Adelaide. "I suppose I must simply attend the gathering in the nude. Though I suspect that's about as much as they'd expect from a Dalish, eh?"

Twisted Fate smiles warmly to her. "And how are the fittings for you today, madame?"

"That would certainly make an impression." She snorts a soft laugh. It's a wry thing- much has her mind whirring as of late but Fate is good for a reminder that the world is not so knotted up in serious matters. Mostly, but not all. "They cannot decide what to put me in just yet. Play to my heritage or play to my being a mage. I think they are still arguing."

"I'm all about impressions. Either way, I benefit. But I imagine it might get drafty, so I guess I'll forgo the idea for now."

That, unfortunately, does not surprise him. Twisted Fate raises a brow to her. "And what is it that you want played to your person? I can think of numerous other ways, personally." But he's more curious as to what Adelaide wants.

"You might catch a dreadful cold otherwise. I'm certain you will find something agreeable." Eventually. This is trying everyone's patience.

"For myself? My station as a Councilor- which pulls as much from my family as it does my status as a Mage. Combining the two ought to be challenge enough to keep them busy without needing me here all day." At least she hopes as much.

"I know that I will. It's just a matter of time. I'll get what I want."

The elf shrugs. "Well, we can hope as much for your sake. Are you dreading or looking forward to this little gathering?"

"Not particularly, but appearances must be made and we've an opportunity to show that we're not entirely without the Orlesian sensibility of class and poise. The dancing might not be all that terrible either." But there are so many other things she could be doing. "Save a dance for me?"

"It's certainly an opportunity, one that will either truly impress Orlesian nobility or make them think twice about assisting us." Fate lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm curious to see the outcome.

"But of course, madame. Simply ask at the soiree, and the dance is yours. I'll ensure you'll have a bit of fun while we're there, even for just a moment."

"We will likely have about as much of the former as we do of the latter. Orlesians are...fickle. So long as we say the right members to our cause? Those that are allied with them should follow suit. I think. I am never certain how contrary they are feeling." She has a vague understanding of the Game- it is a thing that is done, she needs to learn more of it. But more than that? No.

"And I shall thank you for the reminder."

Korrin just observes all this with incredulity from where she's suffering with tailors taking her measurements and murmuring in dismay every time she vetoes something ridiculous. Not that she's really surprised at Twisted Fate's interest in fashion, but these tailors are beyond annoying. "You're enjoying this way too much, Fate. Watch out, the tailors will criticize that next. It's unfashionable not to complain all day, you know."

"I can make up complaints. Just watch me, spitfire. I can complain about the blood orange satin not being orange enough." Twisted Fate grins brightly at Korrin. All this has been a wonderful distraction in his opinion, really. Considering everything that's happened up to this point.

"I take it you've had a rough time of it so far. This certainly doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy?"

"Ew, blood orange." Okay, maybe it is sort of fun to have pettier things to complain about. Getting Korrin to admit that aloud is another thing, though. She rolls her eyes. "Oh yes, I deeply enjoy being tutted at for so much as breathing, not to mention having the audacity to be so tall and toned. Not ladylike, you know. Nevermind that I'm not human. Oh, and apparently asking for something that allows freedom of movement is the worst sin ever."

"The best way to bicker with these tailors is to do it in their tongue. Though I do like seeing you being you in terms of what you don't want to deal with, sometimes they only understand certain words." Twisted Fate removes his hat, setting it aside with his signature coat and vest before he approaches one of the other tailors he hasn't spoken much to yet.

Twisted Fate clears his throat. "Madame, if you've a moment. I've been looking at the selection, but I just don't know what to choose."

"Oh, you poor thing," she coos, taking his arm. "Who could blame you? I'm sure you've never even seen a proper banquet. I am thinking something true to your roots. A forest green; I know that I have something with a gold cut."

"It's true, I've spent my entire life only knowing the woods. Why, I forgot there was even a sun in the sky sometimes thanks to all of the leaves," Fate says with a dramatic sigh, clearly lying. "What is it I wonder you dress your servants in?"

"Nothing so exquisite as what you will be wearing, I promise, little rabbit." She smiles sweetly.

"And I surely hope you won't put me in second-hand velveteen," he scoffs. "You call that forest green? More like a murky swamp. And I've seen Ferelden wool look softer than this."

Even behind her mask, it's difficult to not see her frown. "And what would you know of proper--"

"Enough that I'm certain I'd ask for royale sea silk and you'd try to give me satin. Forest green, really; crimson brings my eyes out better. Please, let's at least start with that. That's not too complicated for a sharp mind like yours, is it?" Fate dusts himself off before turning to Korrin. "Professional tailors. Goodness."

Observing all this, Korrin narrows her eyes at the condescending tailor. Hearing 'rabbit' cements her opinion that sooner or later, she'll be referred to as an 'ox' and then suddenly this day will be much less bearable for everyone. But Fate putting that woman in her place makes Korrin's lips twitch. Once again, he rescues her temper through audacity.

"Nicely done. Never put up with crap from someone who can't even be bothered to remember that racial slurs are bad for business. I wonder if I should tell Madame de Fer that they ignored her express instructions on that end."

She stares pointedly at the offending tailor before being told she can relax for a moment, as her own entourage begin debating cuts and colors. "I told you; no ruffles, lace or sleeves. I'm huge and horned; deal with it. Better yet, capitalize on it."

"It's a term of endearment, according to many Orlesians. Couldn't tell you how many times I've been called, well, everything you can imagine. Knife-ear to bunny to rabbit to river rat -- heard 'em all." Twisted Fate shrugs. It's irritating, but it'll be dealt with in its own time.

When Korrin marches off to deal with things in her own way, Twisted Fate smiles broadly. He couldn't be more pleased with how she manages it.

"The Inquisition is like nothing the rest of Thedas has seen, especially those on the Council. Something to be endeared with," he says, agreeing. "Well done, spitfire. Can't wait to see what they turn out for you."

Korrin flashes a grin back at Fate, having a better time than she thought she would, now that she has someone to heckle with. "As long as I don't look ridiculous and can fight in it, I'm pretty flexible." Maybe not in the tailors' perspectives, but in Korrin's mind she's being downright generous. That generosity in no way means letting them walk all over her, though.

"Of course it's a term of endearment to people who aren't frequently compared to animals. All this reminds me of why I keep hoping the ambassador will help solve the civil war from Skyhold and we'll never have to set foot near anyone of rank over there. And maybe Corypheus will just go and take a thousand-year long nap, while we're at it."

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Open: Party Preparations

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