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

From the entryway of the Undercroft, Vivienne stands in as much state as she holds herself on her balcony. She comes every day to see how matters proceed and to intervene in cases where the tailors forget themselves and the coin they stand to make. She's done them a great favor inviting them here for exclusive rights to clothe the Inquisition. Some days they forget that this is a privilege and not a right and she needs to linger until they remember.

Her lips curl into a cat-like smile as she listens to Zevran provide them with direction. She's always felt he had good taste and is more than pleased to hear once again that she is correct. He will look dashing. Just what they will need that night.

After a few minutes of private enjoyment, she saunters over with that pleased smile still present. "I thought I'd come to see how you fared in the hands of Orlais' finest tailors. They are treating you well I trust, my dear?"

"As long as they have forgotten that I am an elf. Then one of them sees the ears and it is all scowling and 'we know better' as though an Antivan does not know how to dress themselves. For the most part, they listen. But I have yet to convince them of the virtues of a good, well made fencer's cape. They seem to find the idea strange." Apparently Dueling isn't quite so stylish in Orlais for the fashion to have caught on.

A pity, it makes for a striking image. "Perhaps you might offer something that will convince them of the wisdom of such a garment."

"A fencer's cape? How delightfully daring!" That would be the Iron Lady's way of putting the tailors on notice that they are to create what her favorite Antivan's heart desires. And then just to goad them into compliance that little bit more. "Although if they are too frightened to make a statement that will bring them profits for years to come, we shouldn't be unkind and force them."

Hit 'em where it hurts. In the pride and in the pocketbook.

There's a sudden scurry of productivity as the tailors three scramble to sketch variations on this cape for Zevran's approval. Much better.

"So, darling, had you decided on colors yet?"

It doesn't sound terribly condescending- but with noble types it is difficult to say. Only when her eyes swing about to the tailors does he realize that yes, it is, but not pointed at him. Pointed at them and is that not a novel thing, to be shielded by scorn rather than stabbed. He could become accustomed to such things. "One does not need to duel in order to enjoy the fashion, after all."

Half tied and draped, perhaps embroidered with feathers. The sudden attempts at finding what he wanted is much, much more enjoyable than the picking about. "I think I am going to embrace this Ombra Nera business. Blacks and greys with, perhaps, a few accents in red if something suits my fancy. I thought perhaps black and white but no, that would make me look too much like the help and that is not my role for the night."

"I agree, white on black would send the wrong message." She gives Zevran a considering look over. The selection of colors she greatly approves of. They will be fetching.

With a glance over her shoulder to the now working tailors, she issues an informed opinion on the matter of red. "Garnets. There must be garnets included." The precious stones will lend both color and elegance to the outfit.

She curls a finger on her chin while she contemplates. "You know, darling, I feel like we should capitalize on your remarkable appearance. Perhaps we should acquire a new patch for you in black satin with garnets as well. The thrill of an openly dashing rogue will turn heads."

He had slowly been working himself up to the idea of going without the patch- using the milky eye to his advantage. Alas he was not quite yet comfortable enough to do so. A well tailored patch alit with garnets? That holds it's own appeal, far better than the finely tooled leather of his current one. It suits well enough for day to day appearances but this?

This is a statement well worth making.

"That is a marvelous idea, mia Regina." And who better to think of it but a queen?

Vivienne's flushes with pleasure at the winning nickname that Zevran has given her. Not the first she's heard it, but it delights her every time. Unleashed on the right people, he could be incredibly dangerous, and not in ways related to his profession. It is the respectful fondness of the pet name which makes her feel...more than a player of the Game.

She looks to the tailors, firmly, and nods at them. "Add the patch to his order. I will cover the costs." When she looks back to Zevran, she smiles warmer. "Consider it a gift, my dear."

Spoiling Zevran? The Iron Lady? Why yes she is.

Warnings at the Antivan Border- everything Zevran claims of himself and that? Is one that is true. Of course it had been a different name and a disguise he wore but it was him, his charms, his smile, his skill with women and men alike that had the 'hide your daughters, beware of this man' flyer passed about.

Ah, youth.

"You are most kind." He would sweep into a bow over her hand but- needles and pins near his skin. He would rather not. "Might I claim a dance for the evening? You have my word that I will be a perfect gentleman."

A mischievous glint alights in Vivienne's eyes. "Of course you may, darling." Without even glancing at her dance card, which she's already begun to sift and sort out, she knows precisely what is open and where to slide him in. It's bold and daring. Rather like their unusual acquaintance.

"I shall save you a Lavolta."

She doesn't doubt for a moment he'll be able to lift her in the dance and if people gossip, well they were going to anyway. It's a favorite of hers, lively and exhilarating.

"Ah, it has been some time since I've last had a suitable partner for such a dance." His smile is wide and warm, scars on his cheek hooking it into a wry smirk. "But we shall take their breath away, I am certain."

Open: Party Preparations

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