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

[tactical_alert]

He hasn't asked yet what troubles her so. But it's been perfectly clear to him that there is some upset in her recent life. She's been more--not manic, but not driven, as she has always been driven... Focused. Yet in a distracting way. (Even thinking it over, he sees reason why he hasn't tried to put words to it yet.)

Still. It is a ball, and it is work at the same time. She's the politically-minded one. While he'll still play his part, he expects she'll be all over the dance floor all night long. He is obligated, as her guest, her plus one, to try and make sure there is something distracting and enjoyable between it all.

To ground her, in some ways. To bring her out of the reverie she so easily slips into of being an object, a chess piece, a thing putting other things into motion. Hopefully nobody else will be able to see it save for those closest to her personally. "A far cry from the grand Orlesian banquets and balls, but for the state that Skyhold it is, an outsider might never tell how much more work there still needs to be done."

He takes her hand, bowing low with lips over her knuckles, before rising rod straight again. "Whenever there is music that so moves you, my Lady, I would be happy to dance with you." For a given definition of happy, since parties aren't his thing, but hey, it's the spirit of the soiree.

Someone tell this boy to lighten up.

[ungovernable]

Both conscious of his consideration and desperately trying to ignore it, Benevenuta is - less grateful than a friend ought to be, probably, but it speaks to their affection that she might tolerate from him what in someone else would see him cut down in a few words and promptly replaced as her escort. She doesn't want to be distracted, to enjoy herself -

"I certainly shall claim your first dance," she says, infusing her voice with the warmth her barely-there smile lacks. A moment later, thoughtfully, "You know, as touched as I was by Nerva's gift, I must say I am glad you forebear to wear a mask. I see trouble and I may oblige you to head it off with your cheekbones."

She could cut herself on those. He makes a terribly handsome accessory, he might make a very timely distraction at some point - and before he can protest, with a lightning-bright and equally brief grin, "I promise, in turn, not to leave your virtue undefended before the might of Orlais." She wouldn't just throw him to the wolves and laugh, after all; she'd rescue him! Once he serves his purpose.

[tactical_alert]

She's at least putting on a show, and a good one at that. And she does genuinely like him--at least as far as he thinks she can genuinely do or feel anything. Which is a plus. It makes him more valuable, harder to sacrifice if his time as a pawn comes up.

His smile, though tending toward small and subtle, is nevertheless genuine. "My cheekbones and I thank you for that. I daresay my virtue can defend itself for a short time against a few Orlesians, but over the course of a night? Perish the thought." Some might not realize he has a sense of humour, but lo and behold, it's there. "The true question is, who will defend my virtue before the might of Nevarra?"

[ungovernable]

Her laugh is pretty and false, a wrong note struck on a bell; there is no tell for the unfamiliar, certainly, but so much of her is genuine that it sits uneasy in the air for anyone better acquainted with her than their guests. She doesn't usually have to lie or pretend - she is more ruthless with herself than anyone else, honing herself to an edge and utilizing her own nature to best effect. This is different, a little, and she doesn't care for it. Won't be satisfied, at the end of the night; will stare into her mirror and hate that it had happened, that something had slid in under her skin that she didn't control.

(But Malcolm would be forgiven for finding it hard to believe that this is what she looks like out of control. Benevenuta's perception of herself is, as noted, sort of troubling.)

"Nevarra has annexed you," she says, complacently. "It is too late."

[tactical_alert]

His fleeting smile freezes in place for a moment too long. They are familiar, yes, and even act friendly to one another. (Not friends, he would jump to say. Lady Thevenet does not generally surround herself with friends. Allies and pieces to move.) But it is not his place to suggest she stay behind when it is extremely important for her to be in her element, nor is it his place to ask the details of what might trouble her.

"You might find a fight yet in Ferelden. They do love their soldiers and their history. Consider it borrowing an asset for the night; they'll hardly miss me." Not that he fights for Ferelden these days. They all fight, now, for all of Thedas, and apart from the Blight, he's spent so much more time in other countries he might as well not be Fereldan.

"Perhaps a round of introductions, so we are aware of all the players in tonight's Game?" It might put her more at ease. If such a thing is possible.

[ungovernable]

Lady Thevenet has precisely one true friend and she isn't sure how it happened - and that she isn't on his arm this evening is a matter of politics and perception, so it is fair to say there's nothing untouched by that for all that there remains a large question mark over how far she'd go if she had to, where Dorian is concerned.

(There is, despite her genuine affection, no question of sacrificing one of those allies and pawns she cares so much for if need be. She sacrifices of herself each and every day; they are not special because she loves them. No one is made larger by her love, no one person's death or failure stops the turning of the world. Even, just look, the Herald of Andraste, who Benevenuta had not known but whose death should have brought all of this grinding to a halt and did not. What is a friend to that? If Hercules dies, he dies as he lived, and that should be all. That should be all.)

"Let us be charming," she suggests, playing amusement for him; "or rather, I shall be charming, and you shall be handsome and stoic."

[tactical_alert]

"Why my Lady, for me, that is charming, is it not?" His brand of levity is small, tends toward either subtle or bleak and gallows, so maybe he's pushing his luck here. Being too blatantly...upbeat? Amusing? Too much for her own benefit, the same way she is overcompensating, just for different reasons. Though his mouth slides back into its usual firm straight line, there's still the softness that is there when he is around someone he appreciates as a sharp mind (and sharper tongue).

He has brothers and sisters within the Seekers. Had. He had them. He now has Aleron and Cassandra, two names and faces he thankfully is already on familiar terms with. These people he trusts with his life. But friends? True friends? They have been few and far between and fraught with dangerous and formidable starts. He must first and foremost be for the Chantry--but no, even that is no longer true. He is for the Maker, and even more than that...more than that, for the people, for their safety, whether it be from Templars who have turned away from their calling, mages who use their gifts for twisted reasons, dragons and demons and dark plots...or darkspawn in command of vast armies.

Where Benevenuta sees potential pieces in a game, Malcolm sees potential threats. And in that alone, at the top of their respective games? They are truly a formidable duo. But it leaves little room for friendship.