Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

[madame_de_fer]

WHO: Select Orlesian and Fereldan Nobility and the Inquisition
WHAT: Josephine and Vivienne have orchestrated a good-will soiree in response to this dastardly rumor.
WHEN: Drakonis 15, Evening
WHERE: Skyhold Great Hall
NOTES:
- A list of nobles in attendance can be found here. The list was provided by the mods but there will be no npc support for them. Play away.
- A secondary outside party is being held in the valley in the tent town for anyone who couldn't/wouldn't attend and/or behave in the fancy pansty party.
- The goal of the evening is to clear up a spurious rumor about Cassandra and Leliana, with secondary goals of establishing the Inquisition as a respectable presence in Thedas (and fish for more money). Any major disruptions that would Game Over the court approval should probably be brought to the advisors and/or mods.



To say that Josphine has far outdone herself with this little soiree would be the understatement of the year. The Lady Ambassador has pulled out all the stops in providing a festive and yet elegant stage for this political intervention. Because sometimes gossip can be more deadly than a sword.

The Great Hall of Skyhold has been converted into a grand receiving hall, glittering with hundreds of lights around the room, in addition to the repairs accomplished to the original chandeliers. Of course, there has been artful placement arranged so there are a few shadowy corners for rendezvous of the more suggestive nature. Just in case. The majority of the floor has been cleared for dancing, and a fine troupe of musicians have been installed for the bulk of the evening's entertainments. Some members of the Inquisition have plans to entice attendees with their own artistic performances in addition to the group of mages performing illusory tricks to oohs and aahs.

For those who feel their energy flagging, there are chairs set against the walls, with a few tables interspersed between. Servers hired for the evening circulate the crowds with wine, fine Orlesian and Nevarran reds as well as crisp whites from Antiva. Refreshments are set out on buffet tables, tasteful and extravagant nibbles, including imported cheeses, spicy saucisson, dried fruits and nuts, and the highly sought after deep mushroom and anise petits fours that are all the rage in Orlais.

Comments

[keeperofmagi]

Nerva, for whatever strange reason, arrives in the company of notorious Tevinter Altus Dorian Pavus, which is probably amusing to anyone who knows either of them, though it would be hard to tell from her face if Nerva herself finds it amusing at all.

She is dressed in a very stark, simple black gown, the inner lining a stark and vibrant red. A black belt cinches her waist, a long chain with a symbol of andraste hanging from it lays down her chest, breaking the dark fabric. Black boots cover any skin that might be visible under her skirt, but if you look close enough the black is broken up by fine silver lace.

She looks almost enticing, if it wasn't for the scars across her scowling face, the black hair pulled tight back into a bun, and the sharp claw-like rings adorning her fingers. They are the visible weapons. The knives carefully concealed in her boots are the real ones. A poor substitute for shield and sword, but she was prepared, regardless.

It is actually surprising, how well she can dance. Perhaps not so surprising to those who have spotted her dancing with Twisted Fate on occasion, for just this reason. But surprising to any who have only ever seen her in her armour.

The scowl, at least, seems perpetual.

The fact that she isn't wearing a mask maybe doesn't mean much to many.

[arlathvhen]

She certainly made an impression, and when Beleth glided over to her, she felt a bit like a butterfly trying to approach a storm. But she does it anyway, and when she reaches Nerva, she sweeps her skirts aside in a practiced curtsy. She'd chafed at the idea at first, but had been convinced that it didn't count as bowing down to someone. And it was pretty.

"Ser Nerva," She muttered quietly, "Few could make danger and beauty intermingle so flawlessly. You look lovely." Pulling out of the curtsy, Beleth offered her a hand, a small smile on her face. She felt...a little worried, honestly, but the mask hid any trepidation. "Would you be so kind as to dance with me?"

[keeperofmagi]

Of all the people she thought would talk to her (which were, admittedly, very few), Beleth was the least of them. Nerva's eyebrow arched as the Elf approached, and raised even further at the curtsey. And the compliments.

"If you're trying your hand at the game, I'm afraid you have coming in the wrong place. I have no hand for it." But for dancing? That was what she was supposedly here to do. So she offered her arm.

[arlathvhen]

"Do I have to be playing the Game to offer you compliments?" But the elf takes Nerva's arm, her smile carefully measured to allow some amount of nervousness to show. Look at her, Nerva. She's cute and awkward. "I don't quite see the purpose in that, particularly if you're not playing at all, but I'll be the first to admit that I don't quite...grasp the Game, I suppose." That's not to say that Beleth isn't playing, because she is, and dancing with Nerva does have an alternative. But she doesn't need Nerva to be playing.

She just needs her to dance.

"All of this is very different, I think, for both of us, though." Her voice grew soft at that, eyes darting around to look at the finery.

[keeperofmagi]

Beleth was forever confusing, to her. It was hard to line up the squirrel on the roof, with the terrified bird screeching in her grip, with the doe-eyed fawn blinking up at her now. So she frowned down, brows knit, slowly and methodically trying to tie it all together.

"It is not my natural setting, no." She admits. That, at least, is true, but she says it as if she is unsure exactly what she's agreeing to. She steps into position - a leading one, as that seemed the most reasonable - and slipped a hand onto Beleth's waist.

[tactical_alert]

He had been meaning to talk to one of the latest converts to the Inquisition. Malcolm does not grudge the Templars their title, as he is allowed his, but to go as far as he's heard Nerva has done, forsake the Templar Order entirely to follow? He wishes more would follow so vehemently.

She, however, does not look ready for conversation. Malcolm inclines his head. "If this is how ready for battle you appear around nobility, I shudder to think what you look like to your enemies." He doesn't look entirely friendly himself, but he doesn't appear armed on the surface, nor does he look ready to rip someone's throat out by her teeth.

[keeperofmagi]

She knew him by title, if not by name - but the title was enough to put her on edge in the first place. Even having given up her own, his still meant quite a deal.

"Seeker," She replied, giving him a stiff nod of her head. "I would be more comfortable on the battle field, I assure you, but I hate to come ill-equipped. Is there something I can do for you?"

[tactical_alert]

He was used to Templars reacting poorly to the presence of a Seeker unless they were all on the same job. Sometimes it was a source of...disgruntlement in his life, and sometimes he pettily enjoyed it. "I understand the feeling, truly." In this case, he sought to put the unease behind them.

"I merely wanted to meet. A tale has been going around about the manner by which you've pledged yourself to the Inquisition fully, and I wish that more would take your example to heart." He offered his hand. Formal greetings. "Malcolm Reed. It is Ser--Lecuyer, yes?"

[keeperofmagi]

She glanced at his hand and then took it - giving a firmer shake than the dress would imply, though she was carefully with the sharp nailed rings.

"Nerva, please. And thank you, Seeker. It was... a difficult decision, at first, but has proven to be the right one. I am sure others will see as I do." It felt completely right, for him to call her by her given name, and for her to call him Seeker. That was simply how things were.

[wickedchase]

"Nerva, you look outstanding."

Scars or no scars, blades or no blades; the dress truly looks like it suits her, as does the rest of her wardrobe. Truthfully, he was not certain what to expect. Twisted Fate was almost certain that Nerva was going to arrive in a full set of armor, frankly, which he would have accepted.

Calmly, he offers his arm. "Shall we put those lessons to use?"

He is hopeful, more than he should care to admit.

[keeperofmagi]

"Thank you." He reply was crisp, but at least she took the compliment, rather than glare at him. (She was learning.) She gave him a quick glance over, and he was - well. He was quite well turned out, himself, but she had never been good at compliments, so she simply said: "So do you." And hoped that sufficed. She was glad to see that he was wearing the mask, though it surprised her to be glad.

She took his arm with the practised poise that he had been teaching her the last few weeks - though perhaps a little more stiff than she should be. The crowd was new, and she was very aware of it.

"I think it for the best, if we are meant to impress." There's almost a wryness, there, almost a joke. Once they're on the dancefloor, however, she even offers him a small, tired smile. "I hope you are enjoying yourself, at least."

[wickedchase]

The compliment in response earns a wry grin. It's short and difficult for her, he's sure, but he appreciates it nonetheless. She's trying, and that's all he could ever ask. Despite their rocky start, he's come to truly appreciate her and the attempts she's been taking. It's not easy for many.

Gently, he guides her away to the floor, his pace patient.

"I am, as a matter of fact. I enjoy these gatherings. Though I've been to very few of them. Most places don't tend to invite elves." A devilish smile forms. "So I've taken to inviting myself to a few in the past."

Twisted Fate goes into position, one hand to her waist and the other holding her hand. "When you're ready, Nerva."

[keeperofmagi]

The mention about elves causes her to frown, the thought never having occurred to her. "No, I suppose they aren't," she murmurs quietly. "Neither are Templars, generally, or orphans, or the children of servants. But I have seen some, from outside. I would likely enjoy this one more if I wasn't so very aware that half these nobles are looking for ways to use us."

She lets him guide her into position and raises her gaze to meet his. The frown slipped away, her expression stoic but not solemn - as if she were waiting, comfortably, calmly, for a ship approaching the shore. Then, a heartbeat later, gaze still locked on his, she offered a smile - small, bemused, and fond.

"I'm sure we can find distraction for a moment. Lead on, Fate."

[ombranera]

"My, my, how you do clean up." Quite well as he'd expected. "I wonder who had to wrangle you into this this time?"

As he certainly did not have a hand in it.

[keeperofmagi]

"I wrangled myself, thank you," She replied crisply, eyeing him. "I didn't want a repeat performance of the last time."

He cleaned up extremely well, but he already knew that, and she had absolutely no intention of stroking his ego.

"There is enough wrangling required elsewhere these days, that I would not want to make more work for anyone." Was that a joke? No. No, it couldn't be, not with that creased brow.

[ombranera]

"But everything went so well." All innocence, all kind, curious innocence. Which was met with, Maker's breath, a twist of humor. "I saw you attempting to wrangle Fate across the dance floor more than once this evening. I do hope you did not mind my stealing him away for a dance or two."

[keeperofmagi]

If she were someone else, she would roll her eyes, but as she's not, she just meets his eyes with a hard, unamused stare. Everything went so well, indeed. Ninety-nine percent certainty that he was mocking her, but it had enough of a back-stabbing compliment in it that she let it slide.

"I would have to own him, for you to steal him. I am sure he will grant you as many dances as you require."

[bookish_lioness]

Those rings catch Hermione's eyes immediately, because clearly it isn't enough that the masks remind her of Death Eaters without a few accompanying accessories doing the same. She stands up straight, taking a sharp intake of breath, but she doesn't want to appear rude. You don't want someone with jewelry like that thinking you're rude.

So she offers a small smile, making sure it doesn't look anything like a grimace as she casually remarks, "That's, ah... some very interesting jewelry. I've seen something similar back home, once or twice, but not here."

If that comment isn't enough to prove she's a rifter and should be excused for any flaws in her etiquette, then the plain red dress with obvious last-minute alterations and the shard in her hand surely give her away.

[keeperofmagi]

A rifter, of course. Ever since Galadriel, Nerva is quite a bit more cold to them, but she doesn't know this one personally, and not all of them were mages. So she simply frowns, and looks at her hands, running her clawed fingers against each other.

"They seemed to suit, for the evening," She murmured. "I was not permitted to wear my armour, or my weapons, but I have no intention of seeming the gentle prey of wandering hands."

[bookish_lioness]

While she isn't entirely sure if she's meant to, that last comment makes Hermione's lips quirk up in a slightly more genuine smile. "I'm sure people will have no trouble getting the picture."

Intrigued by what else is said, Hermione asks, "I take it you're some sort of soldier, then, if you're talking of armor and weapons? Everyone here always seems to be armed, it looks like. It's a bit... overwhelming at first, but at least that means that Skyhold is mostly safe in the event of some sort of attack."

[lifeofendurance]

True to his early upbringing, Aleron has been keeping close eye on the fringes of the party, looking for ladies who have been spending too much time unattended. Such does not seem to be the case for Ser Lecuyer who appears to have both an escort for the evening and a repeated, favored dance partner. But he does catch her having an extended length of time not engaged and feels that is the ideal opportunity to approach her. He'd been quite impressed with the full length of dedication she was willing to take in her commitment to the Inquisition. Would that others should be so devoted.

He approaches with a crisp nod of greeting. "Would you care to dance, madam?" A lady doesn't always have to be a soldier, even if her finger jewelry implies otherwise.

[keeperofmagi]

She had been lost in thought, watching the crowd with a furrowed brow and a small frown, as if expecting one of them to suddenly burst into flames and require her immediate attention. So when Aleron approached her, she didn't even notice, and started a little when he spoke to her.

"Ah - Seeker. Of course." There wasn't even a hesitation. After all, thanks to Twisted Fate, she had finally managed to dance well enough to see it as a duty, rather than as a confounding and nerve-racking experience. "I would be happy to."

[liberalum]

"There was a Magister's widow who, after her husband was assassinated, cultivated the habit of attending such galas and banquets in the company of a tiger."

This, Dorian is saying as he wands Nerva a tall flute of wine. Gold graces his fingers, and his nails are painted an inky black, as shiny as beetle shells.

"Whether it was tame or simply enchanted into obedience was anyone's guess, but it hardly mattered. It wore silver chain along its back, and stared at anyone who came to close with a piercing boldness. Quite the dance partner, I'd say. I'm not sure I've achieved the same affect in asking you along as my partner, but you do look fantastically fierce."

Almost in complement, perhaps not entirely intentional, Dorian's garb has almost equal amounts of unadorned black, until the fabric of his robe catches the light, shining smokey patterns in reflection depending on the angle. Gold satin creates dashing lines and trims his high collar, and the mask she gifted him does little to hide the angles of the face beneath it.

[keeperofmagi]

"I am not sure which the Orlesian nobles would prefer," She said mildly, though she actually did take it as a compliment. 'Fierce' was pretty close to what she was going for, anyway. She had never seen a tiger, really, but she could imagine what one would look like. The idea of one with a Magister? Not as pleasant, but. She surpressed the snarl that would otherwise curl to her lips.

"I should warn you that I won't be half so obedient, however." Almost a joke, almost. "I'm sure you're well aware of how well you look, so I will leave that to your half adoring, half raving masses."

She sipped her own wine, and then, somewhat more seriously said: "Has anyone given you any trouble?"

[liberalum]

At her joke following non-compliment, Dorian smiles, subtle in his eyes, somehow visible even through the shadows of his mask and the kohl that lines them. He sips his drink, and considers her question with a cant of his head, tossing a look out towards the blur of lace, satin, feather crowding the Great Hall.

"As far as these things go, everyone's well behaved. That flock near the drinks did behave a little like I smelled of cabbage, but they're all too Orlesian to do more than a few snide remarks."

Switching to coy; "Why? If someone does cause me trouble, can I expect you to bare your teeth?"