faderift | Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Captain Reynolds."

Seeing him is actually something of a relief, at least as much as anything here can be. She has been surrounded by Orlesian nobles all night, every last one of them with some kind of agenda which they refuse to be forthright about, whether that agenda concerns the use of Inquisition resources, the public support of the Right Hand of the Divine for some frivolous matter or another, and on one occasion, a bumbling, abortive attempt to arrange a marriage between Cassandra herself and a second son of obscure Orlesian royalty.

If nothing else, she can at least trust Reynolds not to have any ulterior motives. She hopes.

Cassandra nods in acquiescence, extending her hand and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. If any of the nobles in attendance seem shocked to see Cassandra Pentaghast of the Nervarran royal family dancing with an unknown commoner, complete with exceedingly common clothes, Cassandra neither notices nor cares.

"I am surprised to see you here."

Here, at the ball. Because why would anyone choose to attend this ball if they did not need to be here, and she is certain that Reynolds does not.

For all that Malcolm can be sly- he knows when to play things straight. Sure he wasn't here to rub elbows with the fuzzy-wuzzys with their lace and their masks and their blue blood and if anyone else called him on it he'd spin some manner of tale or another. Cassandra? He tells the truth. No reason not to, not really, especially if it makes for polite conversation.

Contrary to all expectations of his bearing, his accent, and his attire- Mal knows the dance. Knows most of them and can work his way through without any undue fussing or stumbling. Shit, he even manages to be somewhat graceful even as he recalls the first rule. The lead is to lead and make the Lady look good.

Not that Cassandra needs much of his help in that area.

"Had a contact that wanted to move some product and meet me to get my measure before agreeing to have me do it. Nothing dangerous, just a few crates of books. Managed to wrangle a bonus donation for the Inquisition's library so long as everything goes smooth." It should go smooth, it's an easy run.

"Business, then." It makes sense, with his earlier story - something about a freight ship. She lifts an eyebrow at dangerous. That he should be so quick to reassure her that this transaction would not be is...telling, perhaps. "Do you often face danger, transporting wares on your ship?"

"This kinda shinding ain't really my style." Even if he can keep up well enough, smile in the right places, and not offend anyone. "Well...we take whatever work comes our way. Sometimes it's things that bite, sometimes it's things what blow up. Most often? Oranges and bounty hunting. Lately it's been more oranges."

"Oranges?"

The thought of a ship filled with oranges is oddly charming, and makes her smile briefly. It has been a long time since she's had oranges. As for bounty hunters...

"Nothing illegal, I hope." She looks at him sharply. The Chantry itself has been known to pay bounty hunters to track down dangerous apostates, but they can be employed just as well by far less savory types.

"Yep. Apples can be shipped by land since they last pretty much forever, grapes you gotta get local cuz they bruise if you look at 'em funny, but Oranges? Hardy 'nuf to last the trip, not so solid that they'd make it on land. Get a lotta coin mov'n crates of them back and forth." Solid, reliable work. Easier on the crew, too, than the bounty hunting.

"Illegal? Me?" He lifts his brows, but doesn't attempt to look innocent. He's got a reputation of getting any kind of work done. "Noth'n like that. Mostly people what ran out on debts, bandits what need a talk'n to and the like."

"Hmm." She looks doubtful, but before she can say more the steps of the dance separate them, sending Cassandra twirling briefly into the arms of another partner before she is reunited with Mal.

One hand slides into his as they come face to face once more, the other settling on his shoulder; for a moment they are perfectly synchronized, Cassandra's face tilting just slightly up to meet his eyes - she flushes, and missteps, her foot landing squarely on his own.

"Oh - I am sorry - "

She quickly pulls her leg back, trying to regain the rhythm of the dance, and sets her other foot down hard to regain her balance...right on top of his other foot.

He follows along the steps, surprising some unfortunate Comtesse that probably wanted less of him and more of the finely dressed so and so she would've gotten if he wasn't on the floor. Poor her. It's a tense few moments before they swing back together good and proper and for a little while? It's right fine.

He'd even go so far as to say they're damn near graceful. Her all upright and poised, him all charming and civil. Then she blushes and he ain't ever seen something quite so sweet or so surprising as the Right Hand of the Divine blushing. He's got half a mind to say something clever and possibly endearing when she comes down on his foot.

"S'awright, s'fine, It happens-"

Twice. It happens twice. And then he can't help but laugh, nudging her gently back into the right formation, shaking his head against his sore toes in his boots. "We're good, Seeker."

Cassandra doesn't laugh. She frowns, embarrassed and flustered. Not that she cares what any of these people think - but stepping on one's dance partner's toes, twice in a row no less, is never a good thing. She is serious and silent for the short remainder of the dance, her brow slightly furrowed as she focuses all her attention on making sure she doesn't miss a beat. It doesn't make for a very enjoyable time, but at least she manages to make it through without stepping on anyone else.

Once the song ends, she retreats immediately to the wall, looking at Mal with a guilty expression.

"I must apologize. I - I am usually much better on my feet, I do not understand - " She shakes her head, at a loss. On the battlefield, her movements are precise and controlled, and every blow finds its target. Here, the heavy armor she is used to accounting for is missing, and she feels constantly off-balance in the ridiculous shoes Josephine had made her wear.

As if her shoes matter. As if anyone would have known if she'd worn her boots under her long skirt -

She tugs at the offending skirt irritably, before guiltily smoothing it again. It had cost Vivienne so much. "I will - have herbs sent. Potions. Can you move your toes?"

Well that'd been mighty fine and plenty fun up till she wound herself up too much to keep smiling at him. A tiny thing, not so much done with the lips as it is with the eyes- but it looks good on her. Softens her a little, makes her approachable. And Mal does find that he would like to try his hand at approaching. He holds his palms up, shaking his head.

"Tile, new shoes, strange music, handsome fella be'n all civil and the like? Coulda been anything. Me, I'd like to think it's the last one. Mostly cuz I'd like to think you find me handsome. Or civil. I'll take whichever you're will'n to give." Most disarming or at least in some cases considered as such smile is what he offers, along with his hand one last time. For a shake or some such. "You don't need to do all that, I've gotten worse from li'l River deciding best way to walk is on my feet. I'm fine. Cross my heart."

"Oh, I - "

She blinks, flushing, uncertain what she even thinks of how forward he is being. He smiles at her, charming and warm, and Cassandra cannot help but smile herself, just slightly, even as she glances away.

After a moment, she remembers herself - she is Cassandra Pentaghast, she is in public at an Orlesian ball, of all things, and she draws a deep breath, her spine going completely straight as she meets his eyes again and shakes his hand firmly.

"Thank you for the dance, Captain Reynolds. You have been very - civil." Despite her own behavior, which has been nothing short of disastrous. She owes him for that, at the very least. "I apologize. Again."

Civil it is and Civil he'll take, but not without one more parting shot at charming. Smooth as he can manage (which is pretty smooth when he has time and a mind to think about it, shut up) He brings their joined hands up a bit, dips his head a little, and kisses Cassandra's knuckles.

Because.

That's what you do at these fancy parties, right? Kiss ladies on the hand, make nice before stepping away? That's what's done. So it's what he does before releasing it. "No harm done. Consider yourself forgiven, Seeker."

Not that there's anything to forgive but if it'll make her feel better? He'll play along and play nice. He gives another short bow and salute before excusing himself. "I gotta get going. Hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

Her hand is calloused from gripping her sword, her nails cut short and blunt to avoid interfering with her work. It is nothing like the soft, dainty hands of the Orlesian ladies that have gathered at the ball, and Cassandra blushes in embarrassment as Mal brings it to his mouth.

But she does not pull away.

She watches, eyes fixed on the Captain's head as he bends to brush his lips across her knuckles. And continues watching, somewhat stunned, as he walks away, acknowledging his farewell only with a short, wordless bob of her head.

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Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

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