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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"Get together?"

Cassandra stares blankly, even as a horrible feeling of impending dread creeps over her. The mention of Josephine. The mountains of expensive, delicate silks and laces. The reference to a gown and, most of all, the terrible, nearly predatory light in Vivienne's eyes.

Abruptly, it all comes back to her. The ball. Josephine's attempt to curry favor with the nobles, to prove false their ridiculous insistence that Justinia was alive and that Cassandra and Leliana had been behind the tragedy at the Conclave. Cassandra had listened to Josephine's report, scoffed in offense and incredulity at the absurd claims, and promptly put it out of her head. Diplomacy is the Ambassador's purview, not hers.

She shakes her head, taking a step backwards and looking suddenly, uncharacteristically nervous.

"I am not attending."

That actually draws an amused laugh out of Vivienne. Spontaneous and musical, though anyone with half a brain knows she does nothing truly spontaneous. Cassandra is joking. That is all there is to it. She must attend and she must also realize that her attendance is not optional.

"Well of course you are, my dear." She sees that backwards step. Already attempting an escape. That was faster than expected. Smoothly and as casual and airy as possible, she steps to the side, motioning to the piles of fabrics to mask her shift to block the exit. A subtle step and wholly innocent. Truly. "You delight in teasing me, Cassandra. In a great many ways, you are a guest of honor."

Her hand falls to a dark blue velvet. It would make a most remarkable bodice. "I gather this means you have not yet placed your order for your gown."

Vivienne's movements are so elegant and effortless, even Cassandra wonders whether she had deliberately moved to block her way. In the end, it hardly matters. She steps to the side and Cassandra is trapped, as completely and inescapably as a fly caught in a spider's web.

"Guest of honor?" she repeats, and she could swear her voice does not normally rise at the ends of her questions to quite that high a pitch. She shakes her head decisively. "I am sure you are mistaken. This is not - a ball - you and Lady Montilyet will be quite capable of handling it, I am sure."

Perhaps if she jumps over that pile of velvet, and makes a run for it...

"Naturally." That is stating the obvious. It isn't Vivienne and Josephine's abilities to play the Game which are in question. What Cassandra will be wearing to this event, however, is.

The First Enchanter folds her arms lightly across herself and begins to circle Cassandra, very much like a predator toying with its prey. It is movement she wouldn't feel necessary if she weren't suspicious that the Seeker is attempting to avoid the evening altogether, and that cannot be allowed.

"My dear, you are a daughter of the royal house of Nevarra, Right Hand of the Divine, and leader of this Inquisition. You cannot spend the evening looking as if you were preparing for several hours in a training ring smacking around a training dummy." Her eyes flit down Cassandra's frame, then back up to her face, narrowing a hair while she considers further. This is serious business.

"Something regal, commanding, but tasteful." A short hum while she thinks. "Feminine still. You do have such a lovely figure. Though cleavage is out of the question. We cannot have your assets out as a distraction."

...mostly because Vivienne suspects that Cassandra would punch any man who she caught talking to her chest and not her face.

Cassandra feels oddly exposed as Vivienne circles her, and has to fight not to turn her head to keep the Enchanter in view at all times. She rolls her eyes with a disgusted ugh as Vivienne explains. Of course. Of course her accursed family ties would be dragged into this...She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously as Vivienne inspects her as one might a cut of meat. This is entirely unnecessary, this is humiliating, this is -

"Assets?" she repeats, and blanches, her cheeks flushing pink as she hunches her shoulders, unconsciously trying to shrink into herself. "That is - no. I will not -" She will not, she cannot be forced to put up with this. Cassandra looks around wildly, seeking an escape route. She will make one if she has to.

"I must apologize, Enchanter, but this is not - I will not do this. The Orlesians will understand. You and Josephine will - you must make my excuses." The Inquisition would be better off without her there, anyway. She cannot remember ever attending a ball and not feeling as if she were a spectacle, the subject of blatant, curious stares and obvious whispers. She shakes her head firmly, backing away. "Leliana must represent the Inquisition. She is far more suited to the task."

Vivienne frowns.

Normally a frown from the Iron Lady sends the majority of people in her acquaintance scurrying for cover. She knows Cassandra has more presence of mind and backbone than to be cowed by a frown. It is an obvious expression of her displeasure and not a move to domineer the Seeker as she would with a lesser person. This is no longer funny, but quite quite serious.

"Cassandra." The tone is firm, and coached much as has been applied to mage apprentices who have been caught allowing their minds to stray during lessons. "Need I remind you that you have been implicated in a conspiracy of fabricating the Divine's death in a play for power? If you do not attend, it will be seen by every noble in Orlais as confirmation that you are indeed hiding something. It is, as we both know, utter foolishness, but what are Orlesians if not conspiracy theorists looking for facts where there are none to be had. You shall not give them the satisfaction of, nor opportunity to, continue fabricating truth."

It is obvious to even an untrained eye that the Seeker is in some way, or for some reason, afraid of social events. Granted, the Game is not for everyone and Vivienne's quite convinced that Cassandra would get herself dead in a matter of minutes if left to her own attempts.

"I will do what I can to make the evening go as smoothly as possible, but you must work with me to see it succeed. Other than your gown, which we have already established you have yet to order, what else do you require, my dear?" Dance lessons? Done. Permission to stand against the wall. Fine but no glaring. Written notes of who is who and what topics to say well away from? Well, every amateur to the Game has carried a cheat sheet in their sleeve at some point or another.

Edited 2016-03-14 09:51 (UTC)

"Vivienne is quite right."

Leliana may or may not have just materialised out of a dark corner. Was there even a shadow there? Was there a door she came through? Where exactly is it that Leliana just came from and how long has she been lurking? All valid questions, and all ones she would ignore if asked.

"We must face their scrutiny and whispers, otherwise the very purpose of this ball will be undermined. Both of us must be there, or the rumours might twist that I saw you dead, or that I am alone in defending Orlais from your dread brutality." No, wait, she raises a hand to pre-empt any protest Cassandra might offer.

"Vivienne is a master of the Game." So much as anyone has hope to be, Leliana does not add, because what might be a labour of years of work and painstaking skill in the Game can be snatched from you too quick to counter. It is a risk inherent. It is why Leliana seeks to warn her would-be bards so carefully about the brutality it breeds. "It will serve you and the Inquisition both to heed her council in this."

And... and Leliana is holding a tiny, tiny waistcoat, yes. Far too small for a human, and she holds it up for Vivienne to see. The little sleeves and their position could, to the trained observer of Orlesian petware fashions, give away who this is intended for. "Do you think the gold trim is too much?"
(Perhaps she is enjoying this a little.)

"But I..."

She whips around at the sound of Leliana's voice - how does the Nightingale always manage to sneak up on her that way? They are in the middle of the room! There is nowhere Cassandra can see that she could even have come from!

But Leliana is here now, her rich voice in full support of Vivienne's insistence that Cassandra attend, and Cassandra sags, defeated. Even she cannot deny Vivienne's reasoning; certainly not when Leliana so firmly agrees. And she has no wish to make the Orlesians suspect her further. The sooner they can put the lie to this ridiculous claim, the better things will be.

She utters a disgusted ugh, scowling. And then shakes her head, rolling her eyes as Leliana brings out the tiny waistcoat.

"Leliana, you cannot be serious."

Ah remarkable timing as always. Leliana is a master of making herself known at the perfect time and yet again she's succeeded in a timely arrival. Where she came from is not much on Vivienne's mind so much as a grateful nod of her head for the support and the compliments. Especially once it's clear that Cassandra has finally capitulated. Thank the Maker.

Vivienne reaches out to touch the tiny waistcoat while she considers the gold trim. "Perhaps. It could send the message that we have gold to spare. Silver, however, would be refined but not extravagant. Paired with blue or silver, it would be quite fetching."

Are they being naughty and not clarifying that the impossibly small waistcoat is for a beloved pet nug and not Cassandra? Well, yes.

"No buts, Cassandra." Is it possible to be severe and humourous in the same moment? Perhaps, but it would likely be a distinctly Orlesian quality. Leliana would say the same if others accused her to being contrary, or difficult, or any other various.

And then! The look she gives Cassandra verges on wounded. "Schmooples is considered, by some, a very necessary contributor to events at the Imperial Court. People were so charmed when first they met him that he started quite the trend of pet nugs with the Orelesians."

Her smugness, there, is subtle and entirely sincere, though she plays up her indignation just enough to suggest she may be genuinely wounded. She always did have excellent taste, and excellent instincts for what would be in vogue, though that did not impact her adoration for her little nug friend. She was equally smug to hear that the dress she designed for Morrigan had made such waves in fashion, as well, but knows better than to even think about such things in the presence of Cassandra and Vivienne. "He is a veteran of the Fifth Blight as much as I, and was chosen by the Hero of Ferelden himself. His presence will remind a our visitors of how important our mission is."

And, after carefully listening to VIvienne's insights and advice, she hums quietly. "Mm. Yes, I can see what you mean. I had thought of a grey and blue theme for myself, so... perhaps it is decided. A little nod to the favoured colours of the Imperial Court might not hurt in winning their favour. Thank you." Nug fashions: essential and sorted.

Edited 2016-03-17 04:08 (UTC)

She cannot believe they are seriously discussing an outfit for Leliana's nug. As if this wasn't all awful enough. They are not even taking it seriously!

The benefit, however, is that in the wake of their animated conversation on nug costumes, Vivienne's and Leliana's attentions have strayed from Cassandra herself. She darts her eyes from one to the other, and when neither of them so much as glance at her, she slides one foot silently back, and then the other. Vivienne will track her down eventually, that she knows, but perhaps she can just...delay things for a while.

She can be silent. By the time they finish discussing Schmooples, Cassandra could well be long gone.

Oh but they are taking all the fashion seriously. Every tiny little detail will be weighed and measured, scrutinized and dissected. For intent. For weakness. For a move in the Game. Gold versus silver for a treasured pet nug is just as vitally important as always using the correct fork at the correct time in a meal, and proper forms of address.

Cassandra's escape attempt does not go quite as unnoticed as she might hope. Vivienne expected it to come sooner or later and she's just naughty enough to give the Seeker a tiny head start, a teaser, before having her hustled back into the net of dress planning. Ah. And there she goes. Right on schedule.

"Shall we fetch her back now or give her another minute to make her escape?"

Without even bothering to look around and actually see Cassandra's last known location empty.

Cassandra is no rogue, and certainly no bard. Leliana's gaze slides to where the Right Hand stood scant moments before, and trails easily to the most plausible exit.

"A moment longer," she suggests, tone so very grave. "Allow her hopes to raise a little higher before we crush them."

They are both players of the Game, after all, and some habits die hard. A look back to Vivienne, and she nods when it is time to pursue, Leliana setting down the little nug coat with a quiet word to the tailor (there maybe also be a whisper about a matching mask) and they nod their understanding before Leliana leads the way in their hunt.

Quite how long it takes depends entirely on how committed Cassandra is to her escape, but precious few can escape the Nightingale, and her tone is calm and even when she finally steps out in front of Cassandra, tsking her quiet disapproval.

"Is this the conduct of the Hero of Orlais? Shirking her responsibilities?" The look she gives Vivienne is significant.

Edited 2016-03-24 05:36 (UTC)

For a few glorious moments, it all seems to be going well. She backs away noiselessly, the glares she shoots at the servants or seamstresses enough to keep any of them from saying a word. Vivienne and Leliana are still, apparently, in deep discussion when she reaches the end of the room. She backs carefully out the door - and then she turns and all but flees down the stairs, as quickly as she can go without actually running, not daring to look behind her.

Freedom, she is so close to freedom, to leather pants and heavy boots and swinging her sword in the mud of the practice yard -

She turns a corner, and to her credit she does not yelp when Leliana suddenly appears. She does gasp, stumbling backwards, turning her head quickly to see Vivienne behind her, solemn and waiting.

"I - shirking?" She shakes her head, straightening, doing her best to look dignified. "I was not shirking. You were - otherwise engaged. I did not wish to - to waste time, time that could be used to complete other important work." All true, if not entirely complete.

Clearly, Leliana and Vivienne have managed to create a pincher move on Cassandra, leaving her absolutely nowhere to flee to. It is (perhaps) a touch naughty to toy with the Seeker like this, but it does help drive home the fact that she is cornered in this situation and cannot escape attendance. If sternness were not demanded in the moment, the First Enchanter would be nursing a private smirk for how well they've managed to trap their quarry.

Right. A frown. For effect. But not too deep because it ages the face.

"Cassandra." Again with the tone. Neither woman is fooled by that pitiful excuse and the Seeker has to know as much. "I must say, it's unkind of you to imply we were being frivolous by leaving for 'important' work. Terribly disappointing." She returns Leliana's look in turn. Both women know what they're about.

"Quite. It would seem our whimsical plan to ensure the Inquisition's reputation is less than essential." Looking to Vivienne again is needless, her gaze steadily meeting Cassandra's, focused, as Cassandra were a whetstone and Leliana's gaze something to be sharpened on it.

"Perhaps I will return to my frivolous engagements, then. I trust you can stoop to indulging us, Cassandra?"

It's teasing, fond, but also how very dare you.

"I - I did not say -"

They are misunderstanding her. Everyone always misunderstands her. But she glances from one to the other, catches the significant look that Vivienne levels at Leliana before looking to the Nightingale herself and sliding her own gaze guiltily away from her piercing expression.

"I would not - " She pushes out a harsh breath, frustrated. "I would never downplay the importance of your work. Either of you." She simply hates that such work is necessary in the first place.

Edited 2016-05-01 22:40 (UTC)

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Open: Party Preparations

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It's a good thing Leliana isn't dramatic or anything

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