faderift | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Vivienne has descended from her balcony to check on how the tailors are faring with their excess of business. She does so at least once a day, more if she catches wind of too much grumbling. Of course there's always grumbling, but the point is to smooth things out, not make more rumpled messes.

What she hears on entering is Katniss. And absolutely unacceptable.

The last thing anyone ever wants to see in their life is Madame de Fer coming at them with tightly reined anger on her face. Anger which manifests in frosty disdain and disapproval. The tailor working with Katniss gets fixed with just such a look. Everyone in the Undercroft starts to scurry for cover and even Harritt suddenly needs-to-do-something-he'll-be-right-back. The unfortunate tailor is visibly quaking in his heeled shoes.

"I do believe I'm in need of a rest. I thought I heard someone was being vulgar with one of my friends. I must have misheard."

She knows she hasn't and if her icy stare could kill, the man would be dead.

Katniss twists her head, and she might be the only person who actually looks relieved. Which, honestly, says something about both women.

"Madame Vivienne, thank the Maker. Could you please tell this perverted dolt that I want a dress, simple, nice fabric, not risky cut down the front to my navel -- not ... whatever he is sketching and squeezing my rear end for 'measurements'."

She gestured to the sketchpad, to be fair to the tailor, was rather a lovely gown, if not daring in the cut of the bodice and the back. Still, his hand is frozen in fear, hovering over Katniss's rear, so he is not entirely innocent.

Fereldan sensibility has met, again, Orlesian flare and found it a poor fit.

Without waiting for permission, Madame de Fer picks up the sketchbook to examine the proposed gown. "Oh this is lovely." She has Katniss' back in regards to being manhandled but not in rejection of a very nice dress. One that would indeed look marvelous on her.

"Forgive me, darling, I seem to misunderstand. This is the gown they are fitting you for? Not a pair of leather riding breeches?" Because that is the only reason in the world for groping a young lady's backside during a fitting. (Uncomfortable, to be sure, but leather can be so unforgiving around a shapely rump and if the fit is not executed just so, the wearer can anticipate many unhappy hours.) The point being, this is a dress fitting and suddenly the man in question is very busy pulling out fabric samples. "It's fitted but nothing a tape measure could not determine."

Katniss glowered at the tailor as she hopped off the stool and looked again at the gown, "Yes, that's the one. Certainly not leather breeches - we have good armor smiths or our merchants can do trade in leather with me for those."

She gave the tailor a dirty look, "Oh, well then I guess I do get to feed this fellow his teeth? Or should I just let you turn him into a giant ice cube as an example to other handsy tailors?" She wouldn't, for Vivienne's sake and for all her loved ones -- but the threat had to be made.

"Or he could actually make sure that gown is something I can move around in - using a damned tape measure."

"Let's start with the tape measure, shall we? I believe that should be more than sufficient for the task." It's issuing orders and putting the tailor on notice to behave.

The best thing to do now is ignore him and make her displeasure known. Vivienne could ruin him with a word and they both know it. Instead she trains her eyes on the sketchbook, considering the lines of the dress. There is a thoughtful hum. "You know, darling, I had an idea for a gown but I believe it would work very well with this one. If you're willing to make an incredible impression."

Hint that it will be a stunning appearance? Vivienne is willing to give away one of her own marvelous ideas.

Katniss huffed, before she stood up on on the stand once again. Folding her arms over her chest, as she continued to glower at the tailor -- until Vivienne spoke about her idea.

She looked over at the other woman, dark eyebrows lifting, "...Well, I sort of have to make an incredible impression, considering what I'm trying to do there, and who I am going to be entering with."

"Indeed you must."

Vivienne takes up a bit of charcoal left on a table from the initial sketching of the gown. Quickly, she adds a few strokes, to demonstrate what she has in mind. When she hands it to Katniss for inspection, it looks very much as if she's drawn on flames licking at the edges of the dress. "What do you think, my dear?"

Katniss hopped down off the stool, moving around to peer over Vivienne's shoulder. Her eyebrows rise together, then interest sparked through her expression as she watched.

"I ... think that would be incredible. Can you really make my dress do that?"

"Indeed I can. It's a handy little trick I picked up from an acquaintance. Here, allow me..."

Vivienne glances around the temporary workshop of the tailors. There are garments on mannequins all around, in varying stages of completion. On finding a gown that is nearly the correct length, she walks over and waves one hand in the air. As she does, tongues of a green flame jump to life, licking about the edges. The tailors let out anguished cries of dismay.

"Oh come now, it's not even hot. Do come pass your hand through it. The fabric remains untouched."

Katniss's eyes widened as Vivienne's flames licked around the corners of the fabric, but didn't curl them up. She moved towards it, as she moved ever towards flames it seemed, and reached out to touch the fire.

No burn, no pain, almost like an illusion, but not.

"That's incredible -- what is it?" She asked, turning to look back at Vivienne.

Open: Party Preparations

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject