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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At hearing his name among the chatter, Sam perks up a bit and starts to look around. Course he can't find anyone right away who seems to be calling him. It's with a bit of a mindful nudge from Fortitude that he eventually turns to look at the barrels.

Seeing a face pressed between them he tilts his head, brows raising. Looking behind him for a moment he quietly makes his way over to the corner, trying not to bring too much attention to himself.

"Belinda?"

"Yes, hello!" She raises a hand to wave and nudges a barrel aside with her shoulder. "I thought I'd stay out of the way until I make a decision on whether to attend this party or not. Look, I found a book!" Belinda holds it up before setting it atop the barrel.

"So you're going, I take it. Have any idea what you'll be wearing? Mage robes, or something different?"

"What kind of book-" Oooooh. As soon as Sam sees the title he stops asking about it. He knows that book. Yes. Well that would certainly keep her... entertained.

"I wasn't going to, but after some thought I figured it would be good for me to go. Course I don't do well in regular robes. I was something in between robes and just a regular shirt and pants set."

"I'm sure you'll look nice in anything you wear," she says good-naturedly. "But these tailors are quite rude. Don't take anything they say to heart, all right?"

"Such a flatterer, Belinda," he teases. "They're from Orlais, of course they are. It wouldn't be the first time I've heard a comment or two. I've already heard comments about my currently outfit."

Belinda's eyes scan over his clothes and she shrugs. "Seems all right to me. But then again, I don't really understand fashion. I think some things are created on a dare, really." Just give her simple woolen dresses and her armor. She's perfectly set for all occasions. Except this soiree, perhaps. She leans out her head a moment to check on the tailors before retreating back.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing here. Curiosity, maybe. I'm no longer a girl, so I can't be forced to attend this thing, right?" It just seemed natural to trudge down here because it was much like being fitted for dresses with her sister when she was little. Belinda just wanted to go out and play, or sit down with the Chant, but she had to stand still while fabrics and colors were discussed.

Holding up his arms a bit he looks down at his own clothes, giving a slight shrug at the look. "It's practical. Working or practicing in a fancy outfit isn't really a good idea. Fancy clothes aren't my thing really, but I am interested in having a custom fitted outfit." For all those fancy occasions in the future.

"I'm sure there are certain people who have to go, but I don't think they can force you to go if you don't want to. Still it might be fun? They will have dancing, food, and all that. I think you can have dress armor made if that's what you want. All this is really to show off to the guests who will be here with us."

"Yeeeeah, I'm not really sure it's for me." Her head tilts and she purses her lips in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm not one for showing off anything, and I don't really need dress armor. I'll probably sit this one out."

"Whatever makes you most comfortable." If she didn't want to go he hoped that no one forced her. "Well if you do show up I'll be sure to save you a dance. Not that I'm very good at it, but still."

"Thank you, Sam! You always were sweet, you know. It's a nice quality to have in these times of trouble." Sometimes it seems like the bad people outnumber the good. But Belinda has faith that it's not so. The bad people are just louder right now. Eventually, everything will work out.

"'Were sweet'? Are you saying I'm no longer sweet, Belinda?" He gasps lightly, placing a hand over his chest, acting wounded, but as much as he tries to pout it keeps curling up into a smile. Clearly he's teasing, it was so perfect not to do so.

Edited 2016-03-11 23:51 (UTC)

"Well! If you keep that up I may think so!" But Belinda is soon laughing too before biting her lip. She wishes she'd spent more time at Ostwick, especially now that James has told her that he and the Templars who followed him here hadn't agreed with Lord Seeker Lambert either and hadn't abandoned their posts at his order. Perhaps if she hadn't rushed away to offer her services to the Divine, she could know them all better now.

"How have you been since everything went sour? You weren't hurt out there, were you?"

Sam gasps lightly that she would suggest how he acted wasn't sweet. How rude!

The mention of things going sour certainly brings the mood down a bit, and Sam sighs as he considers the question. "I... wasn't at Ostwick when things went down there. I was at Haven, which didn't go well as you know. So I missed one mess for another."

"It's been hard, avoiding the messes out there. But the fact that we're both still here means something, right?" It's good to look on the bright side of things.

"Probably that I have an odd sense of luck on my side?" It wasn't necessarily 'good' luck, but so far whatever has happened to him in his life has led him to more opportune moments.

"You could! Better odd luck than no luck at all." Of course, as she says this, one of the tailors says, "Who is over there?" and she ducks down to hide. Whoops. Hopefully her luck hasn't just run out. She's all set to sneak back out, deciding not to attend the soiree after all.

At seeing how fast the Templar goes to hide behind the barrels he gives a small snort. "I suppose so," he mutters, picking up the book and holding it up some as he turns it around. "Just me. I was reading out loud as I waited. Are you ready to see me?" There's a bit of a huff from the woman who simply just looks away and goes back to her work.

Edited 2016-03-16 08:08 (UTC)

Belinda peeks back out and smiles.

"I think now's my chance to escape." She scrambles to her feet and carefully maneuvers out from between the barrels.

"Get something nice! Maybe in blue. You'd look good in blue. Or red!"

"Yeah, probably getting out of here is a good idea if you don't want to get caught." Giving the book a once over, he grins and holds it out for her. "Don't forget your book." She'll want to finish it later, especially if she wasn't going to the party.

"I think I'll lean towards red. I've been told I'd look good in the color."

"Thanks." She tucks the book under her arm to take with her, since it doesn't seem to belong to anyone. At least there's no name written inside that alerts her to an owner.

"That'll be nice. I'll talk to you later, Sam!" And with that, she'll scurry off before she gets found out.

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Open: Party Preparations

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