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.

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"Only three times? You truly have a will of iron, li'l miss." And that ain't nothing. It's something, a lot more than he'd manage.

Between the song and the steps, it's mighty simple. Keep to the beat, don't bump into no one, skirt around the edge of the room till they find the door. It's almost like he's done this before. (he's done this before).

More than once.

Hey if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"When Captain Reynolds says he's gonna do a thing, thing gets done."

"I'm not that little. I've had to put up with pretending be nice to people so I can get by." She's had to do that for years, really, if one wants to count being cordial to mean-spirited professors so she wouldn't end up with equally mean-spirited marks on her exams.

Right now, Hermione's just failing miserably at keeping back a smile, especially as the door is looming ever-closer.

"Captain, is it? Is evading stuffy soirees a vital part of military training?" Because really, given how virtually everyone in Thedas is at war, she can only assume any such title would have to be military-based.

"Shorter than me." Mal smiles, all sly and friendly through the next turn around some nobles what can't tell one foot from the other. Somehow they've managed not to bump into anyone or trip over skirts just yet.

Here's hoping they don't end up causing a scene before they hit the door. "Hermione's a bit of a mouthfull. Can't rightly call you 'Hermi' or 'mione', gimme some time. I'll think of somth'n else that'll stick.

A beat, another turn. "Well Captain of a ship, truly. My solder'n days are long behind me. Shipping business, though, gotta sneak in and out of fancy places to talk to folk plenty in that work."

"Well, you're just abnormally tall, that's all," Hermione shoots back, wry smile playing on her lips. She's trying very hard not to focus on their surroundings, because if she puts too much thought into what she's doing, she's very likely to fall flat on her face. It wouldn't really be an efficient rescue if that happened.

Wrinkling her nose a little despite the smile still on her face, Hermione requests, "Please don't. Ron calls me 'mione sometimes, and it sounds weird coming from him, much less from anyone else. I'm perfectly content with my own name, thank you." Or whatever nickname Malcolm feels the need to organically come up with, if she must.

Intrigued by this tidbit about his past, she asks, "Is that what you'd meant to do now? Sneak in and disappear once business was done? Should I leave you to do that, then?"

"We grow 'em big in Ferelden." He can't rightly say why that is, it's not like Orlesians are all that small or slight. Must be all the fancy eating. Still he tucks the thought aside along with the thought he had 'bout finding Hermione a proper nickname.

It'll take some time and some watching, but it'll come to him.

"Business has come and gone, actually. Already met up with my contact, got a new shipment on the way good and proper. This here? is me sneak'n out. I'm just doing it in the company of someone that needs a hand finding her own exit." Ain't nothing wrong with that.

"You're not just talking about your dogs, are you?" At least she's learned enough about Fereldan culture to know that Jayne isn't an anomaly when it comes to his large size. She hadn't thought the same could necessarily be said about the people, especially since Mal doesn't seem to be that big, all teasing aside.

"And you don't think I'd trip over my own dress and foil your escape plan? I'm flattered. Or would you use my stumble as an excuse to get me out of here even faster, before I hurt myself?"

"We're real salt of the earth folk. Comes from be'n Avaarish or somth'n like it way back before we settled in and learned fanciful kinds of culture. Like pants. Or multi-syllable words." Friendly ribbing, honestly, considering the rest of the world still thinks them horribly uncivilized.

"Nah. Saw how you handled your footing on the ice when we met. Dress might be strange but you know how to hold your ground and how to move when you need to. If you had a mind I'd teach you a coupla my tricks." Like the pole arm tricks, if it'd help keep her safe. "That and I'd hustle you out, say'n you were fatigued. All this excitement, does give a lady the vapors."

"Oh, pants are a major step towards civilization; well done." Even she knows better than to tease someone she doesn't know very well about their vocabulary, but pants? Pants are always funny. It's just a funny word. Or that could be the wine talking.

"Careful what you say; some might say that your tricks would be inappropriate for a young lady." After all, Mal clearly doesn't belong here, charming though he might be, in his own way. "I'm not going to have to feign a fainting spell, am I? That damsel in distress bit sickens me, unless I'm genuinely fearing for my life." Then she'll accept help however she can get it, whether it's from a rugged man twice her size or a tiny wisp of a woman with a wicked punch.

"Nope. Just tuck in close and quiet like in three...two...-" True to his word they waltz right up to the door. Close enough that he puts a shoulder to it and spins them out into the cold. Don't bother him much but if she does fuss? She'll get his coat for the walk down the stairs to Sasha, wait'n and ready with her saddle. "And we're home free."

Despite his talk, she's actually surprised by just how easily he simply pushes the door open, dancing the pair of them right outside. She's sure someone must have noticed that, but she can't really be bothered by it all that much. She's too busy enjoying the crisp air and laughing at how he'd brazenly gotten them out of that.

"I can't believe you really did that! Someone's bound to have seen!"

"No one that'll kick up a fuss. C'mon, Sasha's right down there. I'll give you a hand up." He drops an arm across her shoulders to help steady her on the icy steps, minding his own footing as well as he can be. "It ain't the first time I've snuck out like that. Probably won't be the last."

"Sasha?" Hermione asks, looking up at him as she wraps her arms around herself and carefully navigates the steps. "Don't tell me you actually have a noble steed you intend to whisk me away on? That's the sort of thing more likely to come out of fairy tales!"

"Sasha's a work horse, mostly used for runn'n letters or haul'n carts and the like, but if you think she's noble." He crackles a soft laugh, giving a whistle to perk up the horse's ears from where she waits in the courtyard. "Well...this world's got elves and magic and dragons and us folk try'n to muddle through it all. Why not have a fairy tale now and then instead of a horror story?"

"She certainly looks noble enough," Hermione replies fondly as she watches the horse in question take notice of them. It seems like a better thing to say than to point out that fairy tales can be horror stories. Instead, she only adds, "I suppose fairy tales aren't just for children, then. Adults can need them just as badly."

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Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

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